BadWolf - Hello Poetry

deer, entangled, deer with antlers touching, us with horns, hand in ochre hand an ampersand. you, wearing the crown, deer with antlers touching, one head hanging on, you pull away and im still here; I end at the neck.

0

Apr 7, 2023

Apr 7, 2023 at 8:07 PM UTC

Devotion

deer, entangled, deer with antlers touching, us with horns, hand in ochre hand an ampersand. you, wearing the crown, deer with antlers touching, one head hanging on, you pull away and im still here; I end at the neck.

14

Are you home? I want to beg you to sleep with me, touch my hair, my cheeks. I don't think you want me like I want you.

0

Nov 17, 2020

Nov 17, 2020 at 5:54 PM UTC

Can you hear me playing

Are you home? I want to beg you to sleep with me, touch my hair, my cheeks. I don't think you want me like I want you.

6

I want to say goodbye first this time, can i hang up the phone on the giving end? smash it down, no ****** fingers or wincing. If I cared less I could i would've forgotten your name already, if i could. love is a wreck, always. that's what it means, to be in pieces. to love to absolute ******* pieces.

0

Jun 2, 2020

Jun 2, 2020 at 10:28 PM UTC

you don't think i'm worth a reply

I want to say goodbye first this time, can i hang up the phone on the giving end? smash it down, no ****** fingers or wincing. If I cared less I could i would've forgotten your name already, if i could. love is a wreck, always. that's what it means, to be in pieces. to love to absolute ******* pieces.

12

I feel for you halfheartedly, over the phone. Are you trying? -- I'm in your t-shirt pulling dreadfully at the creases in my sleep burying myself so I cannot breathe to seek some of last week's comfort. Maybe I don't want to be here if you're not. -- I have been so lonely, 'I miss you' is the mouth of the well.

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Sep 17, 2018

Sep 17, 2018 at 7:49 AM UTC

Week/We/Weak

I feel for you halfheartedly, over the phone. Are you trying? -- I'm in your t-shirt pulling dreadfully at the creases in my sleep burying myself so I cannot breathe to seek some of last week's comfort. Maybe I don't want to be here if you're not. -- I have been so lonely, 'I miss you' is the mouth of the well.

13

Closet cold, no closure in the dark, I wait and wait in silence, for some kind of curtain call. The dog sighs at my feet, asleep rolling eyes around, does anyone see me at all And would it matter

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Sep 17, 2018

Sep 17, 2018 at 7:32 AM UTC

Drag

Closet cold, no closure in the dark, I wait and wait in silence, for some kind of curtain call. The dog sighs at my feet, asleep rolling eyes around, does anyone see me at all And would it matter

11

A pair of shorts, two cord strings entangled and the pattern my mother's hands shook gently to draw; cities, a landscape, a cross. "I have no eye for art," she'd say, but my mother's hands made something for him, a husband, The Husband, and he wore them for a while. Perhaps childish, the colours slightly faded, maybe her devotion embarrassed, I don't know, but he pushed them to the back of the cupboard in a corner of their bedroom. My mother is unhappy, she doesn't know it, or why, but maybe it has something to do with those shorts on the shelf collecting dust.

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Jun 12, 2018

Jun 12, 2018 at 5:23 AM UTC

Lesser Half

A pair of shorts, two cord strings entangled and the pattern my mother's hands shook gently to draw; cities, a landscape, a cross. "I have no eye for art," she'd say, but my mother's hands made something for him, a husband, The Husband, and he wore them for a while. Perhaps childish, the colours slightly faded, maybe her devotion embarrassed, I don't know, but he pushed them to the back of the cupboard in a corner of their bedroom. My mother is unhappy, she doesn't know it, or why, but maybe it has something to do with those shorts on the shelf collecting dust.

29

All we do is say the same words in a different order in a different language. I say, I don't want to eat, I say, I hate myself i say i'm so tired i say i want to die.

0

Mar 8, 2018

Mar 8, 2018 at 9:32 PM UTC

cliché.

All we do is say the same words in a different order in a different language. I say, I don't want to eat, I say, I hate myself i say i'm so tired i say i want to die.

12

Car rope whiplash, the snap of my neck to the right, a crush of bones, a clatter of clavicle, all in a mash of brain fluid and grey matter. I want to hate you when you tell me I'm beautiful because I feel like nothing. I feel like flies buzzing in a corpse.

0

Mar 8, 2018

Mar 8, 2018 at 9:28 PM UTC

Vile/Violent

Car rope whiplash, the snap of my neck to the right, a crush of bones, a clatter of clavicle, all in a mash of brain fluid and grey matter. I want to hate you when you tell me I'm beautiful because I feel like nothing. I feel like flies buzzing in a corpse.

11

the grey day Beloved, you and I at the cliffs, holding hands over a fervent sea. You and I, autumnal rift, pocketed by rocks, swapping a storm between our teeth.

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Feb 27, 2018

Feb 27, 2018 at 5:44 PM UTC

Hesse

the grey day Beloved, you and I at the cliffs, holding hands over a fervent sea. You and I, autumnal rift, pocketed by rocks, swapping a storm between our teeth.

9

I have nowhere to go, afraid of my own home and the creaks, the way my mother looks at me, a half starved love, and my father with his scorn. Do any of us sleep besides him? Keep our eyes open in the dark for forming faces over our heads. He'll slip like deadweight into his reflection, look at us like fleas and roaches, to scurry at the sound of footsteps.

0

Feb 12, 2018

Feb 12, 2018 at 10:59 PM UTC

NO-HOME

I have nowhere to go, afraid of my own home and the creaks, the way my mother looks at me, a half starved love, and my father with his scorn. Do any of us sleep besides him? Keep our eyes open in the dark for forming faces over our heads. He'll slip like deadweight into his reflection, look at us like fleas and roaches, to scurry at the sound of footsteps.

17