isabella-obrien - Hello Poetry

Under the strain of a gleaming lightness, chronically sitting across an empty chair. Book, book mark, pen, and a glittering loneliness to sting the rest.

0

Jan 8, 2013

Jan 8, 2013 at 12:19 AM UTC

Perhaps being in the right place would never be enough for there was no right time

Under the strain of a gleaming lightness, chronically sitting across an empty chair. Book, book mark, pen, and a glittering loneliness to sting the rest.

7

Rabbit-hearted girl fox-witted boy I will mist till you see me as epitome. My lassitude has grown but here I remain waiting for you return so you can hear my lullaby

0

Jan 8, 2013

Jan 8, 2013 at 12:17 AM UTC

21 November 2012

Rabbit-hearted girl fox-witted boy I will mist till you see me as epitome. My lassitude has grown but here I remain waiting for you return so you can hear my lullaby

8

Department store leg warmers sharing the stage with thrift store achievements candle wax and I can't recognize futuristic defeat. Here in my corner red lights, behind plenty of ears and tattoos cardigans, cardigans galore. I've seen them all before, these cardboard cutouts. Lamp, desk, repeat lamp, desk, repeat. I love the view when everything dissipates into jean and jean and t-shirt I was reading when you're pineapple hair scooped up my conscious mind behind books and bags, books and bags and cups.

0

Jan 8, 2013

Jan 8, 2013 at 12:16 AM UTC

15 Novemeber 2012

Department store leg warmers sharing the stage with thrift store achievements candle wax and I can't recognize futuristic defeat. Here in my corner red lights, behind plenty of ears and tattoos cardigans, cardigans galore. I've seen them all before, these cardboard cutouts. Lamp, desk, repeat lamp, desk, repeat. I love the view when everything dissipates into jean and jean and t-shirt I was reading when you're pineapple hair scooped up my conscious mind behind books and bags, books and bags and cups.

17

Part I My body never prepared to run out of air celebrate it? I said Send. I said it again and again. Send. the world's loneliest flipping machine withering from your obtusity. I'm sclerotic. Yes, yes that's it. I want to stir you strike you into soup. I'll observe the dictionary, every word will flow from me to you. Flip, flip off the diver's board, Blank and Blank by the shore Color it in, out, up, down I'm sclerotic. Remember this, need this counting people all in pairs: I saw everything through sixteen vision, bleary, misted with vanilla yous. Soft skinned, little girls, hot and milds between their teeth I don't hunt but I could. Autumnal again and I'm just repetition speaking of repressed rage. Let us analyze the handwriting of every colleague, drop out, ghost buster, Coffee house inspired. I'm sclerotic. I'm walking through the forest and you're not there. Part II I write because I'll die I die, I die, I diee. It's been too long since I went swinging Missing my pour of moon to the tip top of my new ceramic mugs. It's all up for traps the reindeer, the telltales, the chlorine. Hyperextended among the cruel cats, where are the cool cats? REVERSE back to nail polish I got manicures as a little girl Staring at my hair now every shaved bit on my leg is its own waterfall. Hah. I cry for my beauty I was told I was wrong with highlighters, colored ads, illuminated in the eyes of old dogs. Take a gulp, I did and I walked for every moment I regretted. I walked. Childish foolish acts, crimeful commitments. I said Send. Send. She said you might not like me but to never fret you love me. I'm walking in a tunnel (Where's the light?) and you're not there. Part III This is the beginning of a low-budget film, black and white this part is when the audience yells "Someone fall in love already!" I think there is something truly remarkable about me (and you) and the boy who cried wolf and probably other people too I don't want my words to dissipate or fall into space disappear in the inners of the web. I want them to creep in through the crevices speak to the many as they walk and see and notice. I find a strange comfort in swinging at night in an empty park and a intriguing mystery the first time someone sighs my name. I'm swinging in the park and you're not there.

0

Jan 8, 2013

Jan 8, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC

14 November 2012

Part I My body never prepared to run out of air celebrate it? I said Send. I said it again and again. Send. the world's loneliest flipping machine withering from your obtusity. I'm sclerotic. Yes, yes that's it. I want to stir you strike you into soup. I'll observe the dictionary, every word will flow from me to you. Flip, flip off the diver's board, Blank and Blank by the shore Color it in, out, up, down I'm sclerotic. Remember this, need this counting people all in pairs: I saw everything through sixteen vision, bleary, misted with vanilla yous. Soft skinned, little girls, hot and milds between their teeth I don't hunt but I could. Autumnal again and I'm just repetition speaking of repressed rage. Let us analyze the handwriting of every colleague, drop out, ghost buster, Coffee house inspired. I'm sclerotic. I'm walking through the forest and you're not there. Part II I write because I'll die I die, I die, I diee. It's been too long since I went swinging Missing my pour of moon to the tip top of my new ceramic mugs. It's all up for traps the reindeer, the telltales, the chlorine. Hyperextended among the cruel cats, where are the cool cats? REVERSE back to nail polish I got manicures as a little girl Staring at my hair now every shaved bit on my leg is its own waterfall. Hah. I cry for my beauty I was told I was wrong with highlighters, colored ads, illuminated in the eyes of old dogs. Take a gulp, I did and I walked for every moment I regretted. I walked. Childish foolish acts, crimeful commitments. I said Send. Send. She said you might not like me but to never fret you love me. I'm walking in a tunnel (Where's the light?) and you're not there. Part III This is the beginning of a low-budget film, black and white this part is when the audience yells "Someone fall in love already!" I think there is something truly remarkable about me (and you) and the boy who cried wolf and probably other people too I don't want my words to dissipate or fall into space disappear in the inners of the web. I want them to creep in through the crevices speak to the many as they walk and see and notice. I find a strange comfort in swinging at night in an empty park and a intriguing mystery the first time someone sighs my name. I'm swinging in the park and you're not there.

80

Whispered body types replayed melted melodies Do you feel the jive above your head? Stick, stick our toes Where was that porcelain face in that cup, so bitter? Trick them with polished giggles, I know you. Little, Insignificant, give me your bones to crush and huff. Forgive me. Not. Candid rush of paint retake, retake, retake. That girl should have been a reindeer, she's road **** We are soft grunge. Play it by fear.

0

Jan 8, 2013

Jan 8, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC

Soft Grunge

Whispered body types replayed melted melodies Do you feel the jive above your head? Stick, stick our toes Where was that porcelain face in that cup, so bitter? Trick them with polished giggles, I know you. Little, Insignificant, give me your bones to crush and huff. Forgive me. Not. Candid rush of paint retake, retake, retake. That girl should have been a reindeer, she's road **** We are soft grunge. Play it by fear.

16

I intently studied this nauseating flirtatious jive shared badger from you to me of our relationship already framed and fitted we never fell asleep at decent hours, ****** dry we were just another product of society we questioned the reality of a world never belonging to one so to be swayed in the music cold, taking it upon ourselves to never hold our heads too low we connected the tissues past pure plentiful parking spaces I saw it happen to us, taken over by fixation letting words fall from my *** into the world where you stood bewildered, courageous lark it was, you made me into girlish shrieks expecting a slight coldness from you I decided to sulk eating the dust I attracted my own thoughts remaining unhappy as you were oblivious our chosen concrete pathways: the negative. Child, as we were envisioning snow angel memories hallucination, love, courting to a distant yield. Child, a rush of adulterate naked plea who wandered busy streets grasping mace and typewriter keys make fun with your water bottles I'll dedicate a song to you Child, salting your French tongue we shall fall apart only once we lie beneath the ground curtaining our once frenzy shell Child, who put her middle finger to the air as she wrapped her ******* with bandage wearing those skinny jeans a hipster queen lenses in front of her face never did a thing Child, make away with a masculine feverish clean your witch hands do graze his bare skin Child, who broke glass bottles on her head to prove she was real, grew lady ***** as they were called in an effort to uncover what happened to the corners in a circular prism bid farewell your worrisome thoughts of homicidal suicide Child, scare the stop signs, the fragility of your former state has asthmatically fallen do not break me in half though your capable eyes do trace the outline of my body and feel my bone hidden beneath thin skin and weak muscle, veins of blue Child, who tore out the steeping cool of a farfetched acid tripped visionary iconic lie crucifying their dirt stained bare feet to welcome pain, a hello name, Child, who blasted **** yo couch into their ****** distilment we have nothing to lose let poured down CO2 fill my lungs as I readily lie hiding from herb grace o’Sundays oxytocin expelled from our uteri we turned our back on the slight touch of pale skinned parts skipped meals skipped beats my heart weak fluttering grows strong with the running of my fingers in your fresh cut hair they questioned my appetite, whispered missing, she never met the standard, they had forgotten we let ourselves become our own nonconformists but we never admitted to it we yelled Bullocks at those who threw us into a status quo social movements mainstream. craving to be old fashioned, we lowered the skirts in our mind and forgot to swat the message that our ******* made us inferior Futures of Singularity we were scared of an age of machinery tossing our new cameras flat screens cellular devices iproducts we read books and intelligence floated above us.

0

Jan 7, 2013

Jan 7, 2013 at 11:59 PM UTC

Untitled

I intently studied this nauseating flirtatious jive shared badger from you to me of our relationship already framed and fitted we never fell asleep at decent hours, ****** dry we were just another product of society we questioned the reality of a world never belonging to one so to be swayed in the music cold, taking it upon ourselves to never hold our heads too low we connected the tissues past pure plentiful parking spaces I saw it happen to us, taken over by fixation letting words fall from my *** into the world where you stood bewildered, courageous lark it was, you made me into girlish shrieks expecting a slight coldness from you I decided to sulk eating the dust I attracted my own thoughts remaining unhappy as you were oblivious our chosen concrete pathways: the negative. Child, as we were envisioning snow angel memories hallucination, love, courting to a distant yield. Child, a rush of adulterate naked plea who wandered busy streets grasping mace and typewriter keys make fun with your water bottles I'll dedicate a song to you Child, salting your French tongue we shall fall apart only once we lie beneath the ground curtaining our once frenzy shell Child, who put her middle finger to the air as she wrapped her ******* with bandage wearing those skinny jeans a hipster queen lenses in front of her face never did a thing Child, make away with a masculine feverish clean your witch hands do graze his bare skin Child, who broke glass bottles on her head to prove she was real, grew lady ***** as they were called in an effort to uncover what happened to the corners in a circular prism bid farewell your worrisome thoughts of homicidal suicide Child, scare the stop signs, the fragility of your former state has asthmatically fallen do not break me in half though your capable eyes do trace the outline of my body and feel my bone hidden beneath thin skin and weak muscle, veins of blue Child, who tore out the steeping cool of a farfetched acid tripped visionary iconic lie crucifying their dirt stained bare feet to welcome pain, a hello name, Child, who blasted **** yo couch into their ****** distilment we have nothing to lose let poured down CO2 fill my lungs as I readily lie hiding from herb grace o’Sundays oxytocin expelled from our uteri we turned our back on the slight touch of pale skinned parts skipped meals skipped beats my heart weak fluttering grows strong with the running of my fingers in your fresh cut hair they questioned my appetite, whispered missing, she never met the standard, they had forgotten we let ourselves become our own nonconformists but we never admitted to it we yelled Bullocks at those who threw us into a status quo social movements mainstream. craving to be old fashioned, we lowered the skirts in our mind and forgot to swat the message that our ******* made us inferior Futures of Singularity we were scared of an age of machinery tossing our new cameras flat screens cellular devices iproducts we read books and intelligence floated above us.

38