Tiptoeing under and over the darkness
looking for you but there's no one there
my mind is racing through long empty streets
my nose keeps dripping, my heart skips a beat
allergic to feeling but mind doesn't respond
I sneeze them out.
I write them out.
I talk them out.
I *** them out.
Yet they are back again
forcing me into one more long night
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 6:04 AM UTC
after two years
they brought you up again
I couldn't even feel when the therapist asked
yet my eyes became blurry
my throat tightened
my face clenched
I could barely speak
I never think of you
I hope you think of me every day
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
i watched the dance
the dance about what is wrong with me
it contained the passion i have lacked these past few years
as i've been taught to control myself
*advice to the ruined:
do not let them dull you*
i read a story i wrote 3 years ago
the diction, the creativity, the piece was pure genius and passion
now my mind can not even think of a line to put down
*advice to the ruined:
do not let them dull you*
i used to cry on the spot
everything was so close to the surface
and now...
for hours i dig
and dig
deep inside myself
but every trigger that i try to set off has been diminished by one therapist or another
and the knot that is tightening right below my heart needs to be cried out
but i can not reach it
*advice to the ruined:
do not let them dull you*
when i was little i had so many boyfriends
i fell in love in the blink of an eye
and i shone with a light that erased the sun
when i was held by someone i could barely stand my skin holding me in
now...
it scares me to have *******
and i don't know if anyone is squeezing my **** or not
*advice to the ruined:
do not let them dull you*
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 10:23 PM UTC
the same old line jumps off my tongue
hi, how are you
i'm fine, how are you?
i'm well, thank you
this time,
there is a pause
the old man looks at me
his skinned is tanned as a hide
but not as wrinkled as some
you can see through his blue eyes
his spirit lurks close to the surface of his eyes
they seem to contain a whirlwind of white clouds and sky
his gray hair is quite dark and shiny
it lays in columns on his head
combed to perfection
we're both lying the old man says quietly
i look up
surprised that someone would question my honesty
i really am well i tell him how are you lying?
i just got out of chemotherapy
he tells me this matter of factly and i feel slightly awkward as i look up at him from my work
i'm sorry. your hair looks great.
thank you.
your total is 53.54. i hope you have a good day.
thank you. the same to you.
the conversation was over
and i will never see the old man with cancer who came through my check out line ever again
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 9:41 PM UTC
my body
throbs with longing
my hips
have a gravitational pull forward
into the hole in front of me
my hands
shake as they caress the air
that used to be where your scratchy orange beard was
my heart
cries a little bit each day
as tears drip from the tip of my left ventricle
my heart grows smaller
and i loose the memory that i had of you from moments before
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 9:25 PM UTC
i have been with many people
boys, girls, men, ******
but i have never been touched by someone with so much respect for me
the opportunity to **** me came
you let that opportunity to **** pass
instead of diving straight in
you caressed my hands
you waited for that perfect moment to kiss me
you had lunch delivered to me
you bought me the most beautiful roses
and when it came time to sleep next to me
you did not even go inside of me
you admired my body
you kissed me so sweetly
and you made me the happiest girl on earth
i may have been with a lot of people
but i only want to be with you
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC
i wrote lists of people
i knew
and i meant to write to all of them
but never send the letters
i wrote to four of them
but the truth about my past dug too deep for me to continue
i burnt that list of people
and the tension i thought i had with them
burnt with that sad piece of notebook paper
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 7:10 PM UTC
i have been called beautiful before
just not by anyone like you
the way the words about my eminence flow
constantly from your tongue
is finally making me believe that all of those people weren't lying
at two am when i'm getting ready for bed
or at one in the afternoon when i just woke up
because i've been talking to you all night
you still call me beautiful
and when i ask you why you say it constantly
you tell me that it is to
help me remember
the truth
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 7:03 PM UTC
if you take a knife to my skin
it will cut it
my layers of protection are not strong enough to ward off that edge
if you keep pressing
blood will pool around the slit
and maybe even splash if you cut the right spot
if you decide to twist
my skin will twist with you
until it tears from the tension and you see my inners
if you take the knife out
you will see me bleeding
and the blood will be red
if you put your eyeball close enough
you will see a fountain
of blue purple and red
if i think your eyeball is close enough
i will squeeze my skin
and hope that my little blood fountain splashes your veiny white globe
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 4:06 AM UTC
Hanging from a Star
The girl sat on her star. The dark towering flowers around her, cast shadows over her blank face. She walked around the side of her star to the grass so she could watch the fiery sun and look down at the fluffy billowing clouds in earth’s atmosphere. Lying, hating thoughts floated up from the beautiful blue and green planet below. The girl had been watching earth since it was first created. Cain’s first thoughts of ****** were heard by the girl. She watched the black plague wash through the world, killing millions. The hell of the holocaust burned through her mind like fire across her own skin. Sometimes she swore she could almost smell the melting flesh and boiling blood from the sick world below.
The girl nestled down in the warm grass and focused her guarded mind in preparation to listening in on the earth, like she did every other day. “Her nose is so ugly.” “Why didn’t I do more today?” “I miss her.” “I need to put at least ten percent in savings if I’m ever going to retire.” “I hope no one else notices this huge zit protruding from my face.” “Why didn’t I just kiss him?” “The sun is burning my eyes.” She made her way through selfish minds of the shallow population and then moved for relief, to the newborn children. Images of parents, lights, and bright colors flashed before her eyes. Each new child’s face seemed to be surrounded in a beautiful clear light. The girl wished the children had never been brought to that terrible planet.
One child in particular tugged on the girls thoughts, making the girl want to focus entirely on her. The light around the child was brilliant. The baby’s ocean eyes were open and focused on the one beautiful flower in the room. The details of the daisy were perfect in the child’s mind. The baby fell deeply in love with the white petals that curled softly around the bright yellow center. The girl’s mind was entranced by the lovely child. The girl named the perfect child Claire and sent heavenly visions to entertain the child’s thoughts as the hospital buzzed around her.
As Claire grew, the girl watched her red curls flourish and darken with each day. Her blue eyes bloomed as she turned into a happy toddler and her pale skin stayed radiant and cloudless. Claire’s mommy was a large, reserved woman, but loved her little girl with all her heart. Her mommy sang her to sleep each night and gave her everything she could afford to. But the floor of the trailer where they lived was layered in mud, cat feces, and tobacco. Her father’s face and clothes were covered in stains and the beard that he never remembered to shave had remnants of chewing tobacco that he hadn’t spit far enough. Every night, his drunk, angry voice roared throughout the house, cursing at whatever he could get into his hands first. Each time this happened, the girl on the star poured daisies into Claire’s mind as Claire buried her china face into a soiled pillow.
After a sublime day of school filled with telling time and and reading silly stories, Claire skipped back to her hostel under the warm autumn sun. She opened her front door to find her mommy in a pool of ***** and blood. Claire screamed in horror and fled back down the steps to the closest residence, trying to see through her own flooded eyes as she tripped along the avenue. Claire’s father never even went to the hospital to inquire about his wife. The hospital gave up calling him, and she was buried in an unplanned graveyard, under the cheapest tombstone.
Claire became the subject of her father’s wrath. Several times a month he would take Claire to bed with him and **** her. She cried silently as he seized her tiny body, leaving large dark bruises where he should have left kindness. The girl on the star filled Claire with exquisite thoughts as he blemished her, but a child may not always be calmed in a situation of pure agony. Tears streamed from the star, watering the daisies next to the trashed trailer.
The girl on the star watched as Claire grew and learned. Finally, Claire vacated the ***** trailer park, on her way to a brighter future. Then Claire met Him. His thoughts were black. Though his eyes scoured Claire’s body, his smile seemed sincere. The girl on the star tried to keep Claire away from him, but Claire was in love with his kindness and moved in with him. The bruises seemed to appear again on a larger scale all down her arms and across her stomach. This man’s hands were harsher than her father’s, but his constant words of kindness drew Claire in, melting her heart into his ice cold soul. Claire dedicated herself to the man, and just as she did, his temper turned fierce and there was fire in his hands. Other girls seemed to appear in their small apartment dressed in scant ****** and smirks.
One night his fingers skimmed like sand paper up her frail arms and the smell of alcohol breathed down on her face. His fiery hands hit her over and over, slamming her into walls, bloodying her hands and knees, and knocking her out cold. He left her there, sprawled out on the floor, bleeding freely from several gashes. The girl on the star could not reach Claire. Her mind was gone. She thought Claire was dead, so in the path of the drunken abuser, the girl on the star put a murdering thought into a killer’s mind. The abuser was shot in an alley where no one would find him. Angry wailing poured down onto the streets.
Claire woke up and posed in the apartment for weeks. The girl on the star perceived in dismay, that Claire’s light was out. Claire drank whatever alcohol was left there and sliced her arms from wrist to shoulder. The apartment turned grimy along with her blood and oil matted hair. Some of her wounds became infected and her face was no longer a china doll, but a red splotchy entanglement, smeared with dirt and tears. For those weeks it rained steadily as the girl on the star wept. No pleasant thoughts were sent to any human’s mind, but the daisies grew tall and out of control.
Claire’s blackened spirit left the cool, ***** apartment one morning. Her tiny body abandoned in a corner, was huddled in the fetal position, covered in dust bunnies. The girl on the star made a noose from a black daisy, and for the first time, the sky rained blood on earth. Each morning thereafter, the girl on the star walked through her forest of black daisies, retied a noose , and hung herself from the bottom of her star, overwhelmed by the appalling nature of the world below, blocking earth out of her mind with her own pain and suffering.
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 5:20 PM UTC