Today marks twenty.
There are knots in my stomach
at the thought of possibilities
and mending; but one day--
one day I'll leave.
It always feels like clean blank paper
with spaces waiting to be filled with anything but water;
I write this poem with clamor
for a world I have yet to see further.
Because today I am twenty.
God ****
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC
When the hour turns twelve,
I turn as the nightmares start to dwell.
It is the only time I accept
that I create these horrors by myself.
Caution is something right man repeats;
(just as the doors all open
the rooms turn and shift
and the dead starts to speak)
Left man is firm, ethical by all means;
'There are boundaries to humanity'
I betray them all in here
consumed by vibrant insanity.
'I feel like God' I admit.
My hands dipped clean
My tongue so gentle,
as the phantoms
all scream.
Left and right are silent
when the basement door rattles
A den of demon and monsters,
waiting for me to unravel.
'Sometimes we tame monsters
like lions in a den'
Left man resists,
"These are not animals
meant
to
be
free."
Right man says none.
His head hung and his eyes calculating,
(because he knows that)
Sometimes I create the monsters,
And in the end
They're all me.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 8:41 AM UTC
She parts like the sea
When she is underneath me;
These salty skin and heaving winds
Compare no depth to when she is with me.
She clings on to me like I do to her
Storm swept lovers longing for the coast
Of the joys of home and the warmth of summer;
When all this that I could remember:
My name on her lips.
Her eyes when I kiss
Her senselessly; her smile,
Her hands, the way her fingers dance
Against my skin;
I am bursting
With vibrant passion
When she finds me again.
The parting of the sea:
Where she parts and I breathe
Alone and never has been,
But she has always
always drowned me.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 8:30 AM UTC