grubbyhands
"and I'm going to get on my knees / would you kick me in the face please? / it'll make whatever I say sound like poetry. / and as my gums to begin to bleed / the words will fall like teeth / and whatever we have locked up now is free." / -Lipstick Covered Magnet (The Front Bottoms)
It seems as though you've brought a
new light into my dismal life;
a new window for sunshine to gaze through
while I struggle through this darkness.
Circles are what I waltz in with the
old flower I clutch to;
I love you like I've always loved you
I'm sorry I don't show it more
I don't think he's all that sorry.
Instinctual habits of remembering favorites for
meaningless gifts and knowing that we must
hold hands upon entrance --
these habits haunt me.
I do not feel like I used to,
I do not feel the flame in my belly when I used to
hear his name or see his face.
It's faded away.
A small flicker, ignited with hope of a brand new chance
in months to come
is what I cling to for warmth through these cold times...
I hope we can survive this famine (love is so scarce these days).
But you..
you have this way of bringing me
to the brink of a whole new paradise.
Most likely a mirage, but I'm accepting it anyway.
Even if you are only a temporary sunlight
in my life of shade,
I'll drink you in and hope forever
that you'll stay to blossom with me.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 8:52 PM UTC
the moon had flesh, but i tore it away
(exposure exposure)
curiosity got the best of me i wanted to know
if what i was dreaming about truly was something remarkable
(i was wrong)
the moon was a vessel full of nothingness
a reflection of my heart,
a destination of my soul
learning desolation and craving the form of a black hole,
my entire presence on this fuckall called earth is no longer
tangible
i am nothing
we are all,
nothing
flesh and sadness walking this earth with a purpose that no one's truly been able to find
none of us are anything
except for temporary shreds of sanity
that rot after a little while
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 1:11 AM UTC
distance never seems to be an issue
when the heart yearns for a love that is new.
a craving for something spectacular,
(some sort of feeling untouched and raw)
perhaps if love were more of an unexpected experience than a
lifetime destination, it would be treasured more--
the number of forms it takes is too far to reach,
but the depth of each type can swallow you completely
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 1:05 AM UTC
my self-esteem
has the sensation of a
tight fist
colliding
with a dying sun
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 11:22 PM UTC
my
sadness
has become as
swollen
as my
b i g , f a t
t h i g h s
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC
Too young for those who prefer a number over a level of
maturity and understanding of the world,
too large for this who prefer to feel bones slipping between their
fingertips instead of warmth cradling their trembling self,
too smart for those who would rather be blind to the world and
how dim and dark and sad it can be,
too you for those who don't understand who I am, what I could be,
and how terribly much I could love them.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC
compared
not even worthy of a contrast
other names etched on your lips while you
look at me
it's difficult to understand
why you even bother
if you live in the past
so vibrantly
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
i've never been anyone's
first anything
they've kissed before
touched before
loved before
hurt before
they live in before while i live in the now
i'm new to everything
i'm this lump of clay always forming while they're
their own statues
i'm drying out from all these tears
cracks are forming but not into beautiful shapes or patterns
just into memories and awful experiences,
self-doubt and loneliness
i am a lump of clay with no form just
sitting here waiting to be
touched by someone who's
never touched before
now wouldn't that be lovely
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
objectified
made into a noun
a lifeless thing
a vessel for lust and pleasure
that can't reciprocate
dying alone in a
face full of plaster
walls built up but so easily broken
due to desperation and maybe some guilt
striving for attention and someone to love
someone to feel anything other than
blood rushing or mouths watering
i just want to feel important
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
I look back to this path of
words and lines and
unfinished works and all I can see is
sadness and heartbreak
it's an odd revelation,
realizing all you've ever
felt strongly enough to write about
was love and pain
there's so many other feelings in the world
so many other stories
but the only ones I can tell
are the ones that have made me want to die in the end
if that isn't sad
I'm not sure what is.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC