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#17
Miranda Kathleen May 2013
#17
Your judging eyes on my scarred hands shaking with a Marlboro red in the joints
Ugly nails and pen on my knuckles saying LOVE and HATE and it's all smeared like a bug on the windshield
You have lovely eyes. Even when they look so mean at me.
"Stone cold *****" I know, I know.
You're **** when you're bitter.
There's gravel in my mouth from when you knocked me down.
I drag you down with me and you skin your elbow.
We bleed and now we're certain we're alive.
#43
Miranda Kathleen May 2013
#43
I love how you walk
especially when you come my way

Actually it’s better when you’re going
because you were here to begin with

The ***** projector screen is your eyes
your thoughts may have something to do with

That smell of smoke is
all yours and my lungs can’t steal enough

I fell for your hands
and for the way they could tell stories

And for what those stories were all about
All those past lives and past loves carried

on the waves of words
incessantly rolling off your tongue

A ghost-inhaled smoke ring stains your teeth grey
and you never told me your real name
Miranda Kathleen Jun 2013
searching for the last one, rolling around, sad and half-bent in my bag
forgotten
well, almost
oh god I needed this
guess I quit quitting

sing me a carcinogen lullaby
soprano, take the smoke rings
alto, the smoldering ash
tenor, the printed logo
bass, the filter in my teeth

"oh, we'll never let you go"
they sing as they sink in stained claws
"not that you want us to"
and the ethereal blue gray chorus
curls upward and into the wind
tendrils of them tremble in the air
before departing
leaving only this painful craving in their wake
Miranda Kathleen Nov 2013
and you ran away to zibalee
and put two hands in the runic puddle of the daylight
and you threw away Athena's kisses
and spent them instead on his touches
and on three spasms of obscene romance
and he loved a sweet lily who rotted when she found out
she rotted at the sight of you
and she stunk up the room with her holy perfumes of miserable purity
and you are left in the dust, filthy and used by him
and then you watched his heart break
and you realized you were in love with his eyes and hands and mouth
and you never hated yourself more than when he said "you're too high, you don't even care"
and you threw up from the stress
and he wouldn't hold your hair
and he pushed you into the wall and screamed that he hated you
and you can't fix it anymore so you walked to the bridge
and you quietly fixed everything with a soft
splash
and he didn't cry because you helped break his heart in two
and you just look up from the waves, blue and beautiful
and you remember the way he laughed
and you can't help but sink down and let it all go.
Miranda Kathleen Jun 2013
Here is tribute to my generation

I find that most people put on disorders as they please
like colorful scarves of false agony to lure the pure into the world of **** suicide
these liars, these cheats aren't sure what pain is and try to invent it for themselves
but here
here is an ode to my fellows, to my little spindly girls with fake smiles and dead eyes
to my beautiful sad boys hiding scars in the dark room of a desperate ****
all seeking a connection to each other when everything in the world is lonely
all coughing on cigarettes to please their so and so and whoever
I am impressed at their strength
I am amazed at the power they have even though they think they are weak
to you kids who stopped praying
because god stopped listening
I want to take you into my arms and fuse our atoms like the nuclear fusion in the core of the sun
I want you to know that the world is a ****** place but we suit it because we are too
this is for the girls who dropped dead after their 80th day living on coffee and twisted will
this for the ones who managed to live only to die inside when they were healthy again
this is for the boys who sliced their arms open to find nothingness but instead woke up in the arms of a hospital bed with bandages and the moans of their mother's grief
this is for the ones who succeeded, found in a pool of their own hot red misery
to those kids who ****** and ****** up, lost themselves in smoky haze and pill-party dreams
this is your ode
this is your song of irreverence and heartbreak and hangovers and regret
this is your song of strength and beauty and love and friendship and the perfect cup of coffee
this is your here
this is your now
what will you make of it?
Miranda Kathleen May 2013
All I want is a storm
one that I can get drenched in
and come running to your door
teary-eyed
and smiling,
begging you
"come play in the rain."
Miranda Kathleen Jun 2013
Goodness, you are lovely!
Please, do stick around for a while.
Interrupt me constantly
Remind me you're there
I'll reply, all in good time
Just let me find the proper mouth
with which to speak to you
Miranda Kathleen Jun 2013
cut me some slack, will you?
no, darling, I’m not awake
that’s why I’m talking to you
because this is a dream
well what else would it be?
did you think we’d ever
actually talk to one another?
your words run into each other
and into my glass like that
one brandy we like
yes that one
I whisper that I love you
and you’re too drunk
on the liquor of false promises
and I’m drunker on the wine of
melancholy, the cocktail that is heartsick
we're both high on
all the smoke-clouds of foolish
Shakespearean sonnet love
and for once I’m happy
looking into your eyes and
hypnotised in your mouth
and then the glass shatters
the drink spills
and the pleasant dream
falls to the floor
Miranda Kathleen Nov 2013
I found you in between days of childhood and days of old age.
I found you in the pages of all of my favorite books.
I found you singing quietly in the back of the class,
thinking no one could hear you but I did.
I did, and I saw your face and I thought,
if there is a god up there,
he's smiling on those blue eyes and that grin.
That grin of yours that made my knees buckle into each other and
filled my heart with so much blood
I thought it would burst when it beat.

But what I didn't see was behind that grin
you were hurting.
You were hurting and you didn't want to tell anybody
because you felt weak and big boys don't cry
but I found you and
I knew you before I even learned your name
and when I did learn your name I loved you
It hurt me that you didn't love you too.
It hurt me how you said no I'm not every time I kissed your face and said you were beautiful.
It hurt me that you said
you're too nice to me, I don't deserve this.
You deserve love this night and every kiss upon your lips
until the day your heart trembles for the last time.
Until you die you deserve this.

There is nothing wrong,
there is nothing *****,
there is nothing un-beautiful
about you just being you.
Cause you, you are my everything.
You're it.  
Sometimes I want to swallow you whole
and have you walk around my skin for days,
walk around with you in me burning like a star,
walk around with the taste of your heart in my mouth
because I am so moved by you some days
I can taste it.
I can taste it and its beautiful.
I want your sticky nasty sweaty days,
I want your tears that you pretend don't fall,
I want your teeth sinking into the soft spots
you are holy.
You are holy, you are like religion
and I don't need a church to tell me
that there is faith in your mouth and
all encompassing love in your scars and
forgiveness and hope
in the way you fit with me
you are holy.

I know you have fought
wars with yourself and
wars with me and
wars with everyone else.
I know you are a soldier fighting yourself,
I know that your favorite color is blue
cause it matches the veins in my wrists
and I know, I know that I'll never find more joy than in your lips
saying my name in your sleep

Sometimes I just think about your hands
and all the things you do with them
when you aren't talking.
Your hands are my favorite piece of you
If you press your chest to mine
if we hold each other for a bit of time,
our hearts will start to beat in sync.
Our hearts will start to beat into each other like
marching drums tapping out each measure.
I want our hearts to beat together.
I want the bells of your laughter.
I want to swing from the rafters like kids on monkey bars.
I want to spend my years counting all the stars
in your eyes
You called me at three in the morning.
I was too sleepy to comprehend I love you
but I'm sure glad you said it
hit
Miranda Kathleen Jun 2013
hit
I'm sick and ******* tired of being treated like glass about to break.
I want you to hit me.
I can't.
Hit me.
I can't hit you.
Yes you can. Hit me.
I can't hit a girl.
Oh just grow a pair and do it!*
His hand made shattering contact with my cheekbone.
And he started to cry
I'm so sorry I'm so sorry I'm so sorry
He was kissing my face and hands over and over
so sorry so sorry so sorry
I kissed him hard and the world refused to slow on its axis no matter how much we wanted it to.
this is autobiographical
Miranda Kathleen May 2013
waking up with the carpet imprinted into my cheek
wondering where the hell the night went
wondering why I said what I said to you
whywhywhy
Miranda Kathleen May 2013
I breathe in warmth
and the scent of cigarette smoke
and the promise of summer
Today only brings
new-turned spring dirt
and blood in my mouth
as I bite down on my tongue
The sun warms my back
and you warm my pulse
with your gorgeous mouth
as I find constellations on
the freckles in your face

you thrill me
I hate you
kiss me
Go away
love me
leave me
kiss me again

My indecision must make you crazy
Miranda Kathleen Jun 2013
Some nights I feel that I could swallow the universe and concentrate it all into a massive burning star right in the center of my chest

And some nights I feel so weak and sad that I can feel that star die inside of me and I want to retire into darkness

Most nights, however, I feel like I am simply a particle floating through the void, waiting to be swept up into something greater
Miranda Kathleen May 2013
the open window is a portal
to sunshine or moonlight
and freedom and cigarettes
and vagabond bearded boys
all that is only open to you
if you get up the courage
swing out, swing out, swing out
out onto the cold roof
and into the world
Miranda Kathleen May 2013
I spend my time
drinking
writing
thinking about death
thinking about ***
licking oxycontin dust off of razor blades
and adoring that stupid beautiful boy
with every ****** up fiber of my being

— The End —