He looked around
at the all the faceless
people, oblivious
to the notion
that they were but
a disturbance
a flicker
a fault
a whimper
in the grand scheme
of things
and he wished
that he too could
take part in their quiet
unassuming disposition
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 6:22 AM UTC
I didn't believe in paper cuts
much like I didn't believe in love
until one day as I turned the pages
of a rather flimsy paperback
bound together
more so by the story it held
between its yellowing pages
than by its tattered spine
In my hurry to rush forward
with the other lives
I found myself so invested in
I felt a stinging burn pierce
the flimsiest part of my index finger
that seemed separated from the blood
(that was with such impertinence
bursting forth from my veins)
by the smallest stretch of skin
I watched the crimson pool
and drip reluctantly onto
the unsuspecting paper
and realised in that moment
you don't fall in love
you stumble into it, face-first
and feel the singeing burn afterward
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 2:19 AM UTC
Don't tell me
I'm pretty
like one of your french girls
don't do that
don't tell me I'm beautiful
I don't want to hear it
you'll tell me that
and I'll believe it
because I know
just as much as you do
I believe it now
and I'll even believe it
a month hence
when you shout out
in front of all your friends
that I'm an ugly *****
and I'll smile at your impunity
and delete your number off my phone
but a few days later
when you're a little less drunk
you'll see the mistake you made
and then you'll realize
what you really had to tell me
was not that I'm some sort of
flawless celestial creature
but
that I'm the most interesting woman
you've ever ******* known
and then you'll see
why I know I'm beautiful.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
If the flicker of a flicker of a flicker
in the farthest corner of my heart
could cause such unseemly eruptions
inside the inside of my insides
that leave me breathless
even months after
can you begin to imagine
the unholy mess
the unearthly calamity
that would unfold
if the spark of a spark of a spark
were to blind my eyes
with their mere fortuitous existence?
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 3:56 PM UTC
Some days to the world
I am the thunder
Clapping at the lightning I see in others
And on some days
I am the lightning
Striking out, in awe of my own strength
But on most days
I feel like the cloud
That holds within it
The sound and the fury
Of the thunder and the lightning
With no ******* idea
What to do with it all.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 2:49 AM UTC
Infinities and unfathomables
Unseeables and unthinkables
They want the unachievable
But all I ask in this transcient state
Is a tiny forever
Just within the confines of possibility
Just outside the realm of reality
Right in the center of your soul.
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 12:49 AM UTC
the words of a stranger
a hundred realisations
a mixture of salt and water
enough to fill a bowl and a half
the words of another stranger
a cosmic shift
and an inscrutable force of will
is all it took
and some more
for her to pick herself back up
and ride on
and out of the labyrinth.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 11:26 AM UTC
Of heart beats and beech strings
Of broken souls and abandoned goals
Of vast expanses and unexplored universes
Of the sea and the sky
The tired moon and ugly summer nights
And sand that singes through your skin
Of aching artists and self proclaimed martyrs
The worn down stars are starting to fade out
Stop trying so hard
You're stuck between a rock and a hard place
There's nothing glorious about that.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
Colours
Like you've never seen before
Blind these lost souls
As
To the music they sway
Their carefully sculpted hips
Banishing
Any thoughts
That endeavour to stray
Into their fickle minds
Between sips
Lips
That curve
Into phony smiles
Citing pitiful attempts
At humour
What are they hoping
To achieve here?
What are they hoping
To find?
I think
I'm going to stop deluding myself now
I'm going to go look for my own kind.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
the memory
it ebbs slowly
sauntering
occasionally to the fore
wandering
leisurely
into the darker pastures
of my entail
I know not
if this is a good thing
they say the grass
is greener
on the other side
all I know is
I never want to forget
the feel of the grass
on your side
of the pasture
the dewy descent
of your hungry hands
as they snake their way
over my skin
impelling
my pretty little heart
to do the grasshopper dance
the feel of your lips
as they traced
the corners of my mouth
I don't want to forget
but
you've moved
to darker pastures
leaving
lots of green in my heart
they said
the grass was greener on the other side
they were wrong.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 9:47 AM UTC