jenny-8 - Hello Poetry

i told you thanksgiving was my favorite holiday when i forgot to give tradition something to prop itself up on i lost the code to your apartment and now i walk the two vertical and one horizontal blocks to your house and peek inside the mailbox for a security question and answer session. have you considered sending a postcard from where you are now, or does the idea of you having an affair with the mailman stop your conscience from turning on snooze? when my body is cremated and my lungs turn to dust who will stop me from sending extremely drunk texts while being extremely drunk? try commissioning somebody to make a marble statue out of you. find out you were overcharged when it turns out to be just a huge clump of marshmallow fluff, when you're lactose intolerant, when your kids are gonna have it even better than you did and you had it really good. you take your kids to MOMA, and i wonder why we never had *** outside except for sometimes on your balcony under a quilt. i'm not upset about it because it'll be 2065 soon and outside will be obsolete and you and i will be something similar to the Byzantium period where we have to struggle to remember it existed.

0

Nov 11, 2015

Nov 11, 2015 at 3:43 AM UTC

feelings about squash

i told you thanksgiving was my favorite holiday when i forgot to give tradition something to prop itself up on i lost the code to your apartment and now i walk the two vertical and one horizontal blocks to your house and peek inside the mailbox for a security question and answer session. have you considered sending a postcard from where you are now, or does the idea of you having an affair with the mailman stop your conscience from turning on snooze? when my body is cremated and my lungs turn to dust who will stop me from sending extremely drunk texts while being extremely drunk? try commissioning somebody to make a marble statue out of you. find out you were overcharged when it turns out to be just a huge clump of marshmallow fluff, when you're lactose intolerant, when your kids are gonna have it even better than you did and you had it really good. you take your kids to MOMA, and i wonder why we never had *** outside except for sometimes on your balcony under a quilt. i'm not upset about it because it'll be 2065 soon and outside will be obsolete and you and i will be something similar to the Byzantium period where we have to struggle to remember it existed.

6

i wonder how your disco ball girl would feel about a night like this all my friends say we aren't in the same scene and i am embarrassed to be seen with you but i love the way you button your shirt and the way you are when your stomach hurts my feelings are raw meat and hard to chew and i drink a bottle of wine in case i'm left alone with you ten typos later and i have tears in my tights and stains on my lips melancholia is a mediocre movie and the truest feeling i can muster i let a boy in through the back door and forget he was ever there aside from the fact that there is long hair clogging my shower drain and the shower in your parent's house is the smallest space i've ever been in my friends feel violated by the whistle of a teakettle and i spent the evenings of a man speaking gibberish on top of a washing machine he was wearing a three piece suit with a piece of wheat in the breast pocket and either he was walt whitman or the end of the summer what have i got to lose

0

Nov 9, 2015

Nov 9, 2015 at 11:25 PM UTC

druken rebuttals of getting back with your ex

i wonder how your disco ball girl would feel about a night like this all my friends say we aren't in the same scene and i am embarrassed to be seen with you but i love the way you button your shirt and the way you are when your stomach hurts my feelings are raw meat and hard to chew and i drink a bottle of wine in case i'm left alone with you ten typos later and i have tears in my tights and stains on my lips melancholia is a mediocre movie and the truest feeling i can muster i let a boy in through the back door and forget he was ever there aside from the fact that there is long hair clogging my shower drain and the shower in your parent's house is the smallest space i've ever been in my friends feel violated by the whistle of a teakettle and i spent the evenings of a man speaking gibberish on top of a washing machine he was wearing a three piece suit with a piece of wheat in the breast pocket and either he was walt whitman or the end of the summer what have i got to lose

9

Undress me in rhyme - We talk ***** in haiku "You are a bad girl."- - - - - - - hey, baby you, tiny little mashed potato heartstrings hangin' from a tenderizer enough time has elapsed to where it's appropriate for us to address (what really matters here) (our letters to home) (our letters to each other) road trip checklist numbered 1-49. the last step is to be discovered later. when we lose track of the metric system and need to borrow a cup of sugar, but this is Australia and what, oh what, is a cup? it's bound to happen eventually, is what my mom told me so there'll have to be two kisses, twice for good measure the more lies i feed myself, the smaller i become. is this physics or something else that boy who stood me up majored in? tiny things are your thing - they're mysterious. i could be small enough to dangle from your pinky finger. i could nestle in your eardrum. i could scale the length of your adam's apple. i could hang-glide from the straight line of your not completely evolved forehead. i could go on forever. My favorite memory is when i baked myself into three-ingredient peanut butter cookies. They burned and you lied. You said something so good couldn't be so simple And i said "it takes one to know one."

0

Oct 18, 2014

Oct 18, 2014 at 2:22 AM UTC

myself (and other vices)

Undress me in rhyme - We talk ***** in haiku "You are a bad girl."- - - - - - - hey, baby you, tiny little mashed potato heartstrings hangin' from a tenderizer enough time has elapsed to where it's appropriate for us to address (what really matters here) (our letters to home) (our letters to each other) road trip checklist numbered 1-49. the last step is to be discovered later. when we lose track of the metric system and need to borrow a cup of sugar, but this is Australia and what, oh what, is a cup? it's bound to happen eventually, is what my mom told me so there'll have to be two kisses, twice for good measure the more lies i feed myself, the smaller i become. is this physics or something else that boy who stood me up majored in? tiny things are your thing - they're mysterious. i could be small enough to dangle from your pinky finger. i could nestle in your eardrum. i could scale the length of your adam's apple. i could hang-glide from the straight line of your not completely evolved forehead. i could go on forever. My favorite memory is when i baked myself into three-ingredient peanut butter cookies. They burned and you lied. You said something so good couldn't be so simple And i said "it takes one to know one."

21

I sleep next to you shrouded in thunderstorms with want to barricade myself about what is possibly the sun I spite so well. To wake up in this ray of light - to stretch myself into liquid like a cat and purr silently into the chest of my consoler - seems too optimistic for a bone-brained organism such as myself. I know myself to be what you desire, I am constructed in purple forget-me-nots and tangled so tightly as to choke out thoughts that run as lawnmower legs when ran apart. Wear me draped around our neck in midnighted velvet so I can appreciate how much you have invested in my warmth. A chair for me and in turn I will prop your eyelids up with chopsticks and tell you to mind your elbows. Niceties breed love, which rebels and grows up and drinks itself to death if only to be resurrected as contempt. I tried to turn myself into an ice statue but I just melted in your arms and now I am condensation on the cold cup of revenge leading into you. We are like sea turtles at a resort, finding their way back home to avoid being gawked at, needing only to gawk at one another in a dingy laboratory romance.

0

Sep 2, 2014

Sep 2, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC

falling in with infidelity

I sleep next to you shrouded in thunderstorms with want to barricade myself about what is possibly the sun I spite so well. To wake up in this ray of light - to stretch myself into liquid like a cat and purr silently into the chest of my consoler - seems too optimistic for a bone-brained organism such as myself. I know myself to be what you desire, I am constructed in purple forget-me-nots and tangled so tightly as to choke out thoughts that run as lawnmower legs when ran apart. Wear me draped around our neck in midnighted velvet so I can appreciate how much you have invested in my warmth. A chair for me and in turn I will prop your eyelids up with chopsticks and tell you to mind your elbows. Niceties breed love, which rebels and grows up and drinks itself to death if only to be resurrected as contempt. I tried to turn myself into an ice statue but I just melted in your arms and now I am condensation on the cold cup of revenge leading into you. We are like sea turtles at a resort, finding their way back home to avoid being gawked at, needing only to gawk at one another in a dingy laboratory romance.

1

within an introduction exist two things: one and the other. similarly, in such a meeting two things lie: you and i. speaking from the standpoint of time, a conclusion must arrive and what could be better than lying together? hand gripping hand - seems normal hand knowing hand - painted, pained, veined. hand to hand from boy to girl hand upon hand - all notions entertained what would it take for a couple's bodies to become one - a glance in a mirror to confirm the presence of two. where four footprints stained, a duo remains seal our deal with a kiss blown towards a reflective sun.

0

Apr 13, 2014

Apr 13, 2014 at 12:46 AM UTC

one handshake

within an introduction exist two things: one and the other. similarly, in such a meeting two things lie: you and i. speaking from the standpoint of time, a conclusion must arrive and what could be better than lying together? hand gripping hand - seems normal hand knowing hand - painted, pained, veined. hand to hand from boy to girl hand upon hand - all notions entertained what would it take for a couple's bodies to become one - a glance in a mirror to confirm the presence of two. where four footprints stained, a duo remains seal our deal with a kiss blown towards a reflective sun.

12

Let history repeat itself in between your fingers. As far as we're concerned, cotton never killed anybody. Right? Sun glinting peach fuzz on your arms reveals how movies were made. Attic windows cracked open with bare feet dangling flower stems - now I get how babies were made. Hey, hello, stop by whenever you want. They say I'm worth the drive. They also say the fun is in the journey. Most boys prefer one or the other. Your arms are liquid. You are a jungle. Let me get tangled up in your heartstrings and bathe naked in Denial. Cirrus clouds fly in my ears and as soon as lips meet my forehead I'm out the door. When we die, there won't be any more candlelight s'mores. This is what I've been meaning to tell you.

0

Mar 10, 2014

Mar 10, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC

spring's cork lodged in my eye socket

Let history repeat itself in between your fingers. As far as we're concerned, cotton never killed anybody. Right? Sun glinting peach fuzz on your arms reveals how movies were made. Attic windows cracked open with bare feet dangling flower stems - now I get how babies were made. Hey, hello, stop by whenever you want. They say I'm worth the drive. They also say the fun is in the journey. Most boys prefer one or the other. Your arms are liquid. You are a jungle. Let me get tangled up in your heartstrings and bathe naked in Denial. Cirrus clouds fly in my ears and as soon as lips meet my forehead I'm out the door. When we die, there won't be any more candlelight s'mores. This is what I've been meaning to tell you.

10

there's enough space for a tiny bird's nest in the caves of your empty stomach and i'm nothing if not a tiny bird girl. envelop me in the enemy's down comforter, pull up my roots for infrastructure. crumple up the map made for meeting mouths - we'll find our way there in the dark. adventure swirls around the bottom of a toilet bowl. we have a new home now.

0

Mar 1, 2014

Mar 1, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC

nest

there's enough space for a tiny bird's nest in the caves of your empty stomach and i'm nothing if not a tiny bird girl. envelop me in the enemy's down comforter, pull up my roots for infrastructure. crumple up the map made for meeting mouths - we'll find our way there in the dark. adventure swirls around the bottom of a toilet bowl. we have a new home now.

2

liquid will swirl into the shape of it's cradle as hearts will mold to the minds of their successors. background checks? tl;dr. ______________________________________________ brave girls have cranberry ***** running through their veins, isn't that right? drink up, buttercup. what's it if you and i goes on a ride? i got a paintbrush, you've got what needs to be painted. i'll paint you so good you won't even recognize yourself. - portraiture is dead and landscape is only dying. let me -make you -in two -into a landscape. you're gonna be sittin' pretty for the rest of your life, 'cause i'm not giving you any other options. open up those ankles - we're out of paint. - this prototype calls for one cup of honeydew, one cup of darling- stop - . if it's on the market, how illegal could it be? throw 'er in the *** the bottom drawer plays labyrinth to movers, shakers, mixers, fixers. all those faces are too hard to tell apart, if you ask me. ten can-can dancers, please, and make it snappier than jaws on concrete! no, not like that. you're spending too much money on lipstick anyways. girls don't need makeup. girls will look pretty no matter what angle i've determined your elbows should be. your short-haired sister doesn't appear to be using this blood. - lay her on thick; and make sure you write those scars off as business expenses.

0

Feb 22, 2014

Feb 22, 2014 at 1:35 AM UTC

local muse found at depths of riverbank

liquid will swirl into the shape of it's cradle as hearts will mold to the minds of their successors. background checks? tl;dr. ______________________________________________ brave girls have cranberry ***** running through their veins, isn't that right? drink up, buttercup. what's it if you and i goes on a ride? i got a paintbrush, you've got what needs to be painted. i'll paint you so good you won't even recognize yourself. - portraiture is dead and landscape is only dying. let me -make you -in two -into a landscape. you're gonna be sittin' pretty for the rest of your life, 'cause i'm not giving you any other options. open up those ankles - we're out of paint. - this prototype calls for one cup of honeydew, one cup of darling- stop - . if it's on the market, how illegal could it be? throw 'er in the *** the bottom drawer plays labyrinth to movers, shakers, mixers, fixers. all those faces are too hard to tell apart, if you ask me. ten can-can dancers, please, and make it snappier than jaws on concrete! no, not like that. you're spending too much money on lipstick anyways. girls don't need makeup. girls will look pretty no matter what angle i've determined your elbows should be. your short-haired sister doesn't appear to be using this blood. - lay her on thick; and make sure you write those scars off as business expenses.

23

part one is where i said "if we don't handcuff ourselves together i am going to lose it." i said, "if somebody could just clean all that ***** out of you we would probably weigh about the same. if we looked in a mirror at the same time there would only be one reflection. if we lie at the same time we'll just be lying together, physically and mentally. and what could be better than together?" part one and a half is where things get out of hand - hands covered in finger-paint and hands that forgot to wash themselves in the aftermath of many a sticky situation. hands that held mine and hands that held yours, hands that couldn't be evidenced no matter how hard any arithmetic teacher tried and hands that wrote about every sketch artist but never any criminals. part two and i'm hanging myself with an iPhone charger, hands wrapped around swan neck - bird girl messy hair tiny hands girl bushy eyebrows cross-eyed ocean eyes girl between life and death - and solemnly stepping over that mysterious dining-room table on your front porch. my last words have something to do with Jackie Chan and i whisper "nobody ever saw a cowboy on the psychiatrist's couch." Part Three is exactly that: three. welcome to past present and future, i say. can i take your order and can you hold my hand and you do know that meat is bad for your heart, right? __________________________________________________________________ we sat shut-eyed and snickering and reaching our hands into a crumpled brown bag labelled "Fatal Flaws". "no tradesies" said the big man. you and i unknowing one another, laughed unknowingly. your slip of paper read "superiority complex" and mine said simply "inability to love" and i thought about how good our tragedies would look together, how our stars could align in all the melancholy we both believed in. ________________________________________________________

0

Feb 17, 2014

Feb 17, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC

"whatever", you want

part one is where i said "if we don't handcuff ourselves together i am going to lose it." i said, "if somebody could just clean all that ***** out of you we would probably weigh about the same. if we looked in a mirror at the same time there would only be one reflection. if we lie at the same time we'll just be lying together, physically and mentally. and what could be better than together?" part one and a half is where things get out of hand - hands covered in finger-paint and hands that forgot to wash themselves in the aftermath of many a sticky situation. hands that held mine and hands that held yours, hands that couldn't be evidenced no matter how hard any arithmetic teacher tried and hands that wrote about every sketch artist but never any criminals. part two and i'm hanging myself with an iPhone charger, hands wrapped around swan neck - bird girl messy hair tiny hands girl bushy eyebrows cross-eyed ocean eyes girl between life and death - and solemnly stepping over that mysterious dining-room table on your front porch. my last words have something to do with Jackie Chan and i whisper "nobody ever saw a cowboy on the psychiatrist's couch." Part Three is exactly that: three. welcome to past present and future, i say. can i take your order and can you hold my hand and you do know that meat is bad for your heart, right? __________________________________________________________________ we sat shut-eyed and snickering and reaching our hands into a crumpled brown bag labelled "Fatal Flaws". "no tradesies" said the big man. you and i unknowing one another, laughed unknowingly. your slip of paper read "superiority complex" and mine said simply "inability to love" and i thought about how good our tragedies would look together, how our stars could align in all the melancholy we both believed in. ________________________________________________________

11

on your right, you'll see a picture of me awake in the middle of the night; sweating feverishly and falling over a little fence somebody built to keep me grounded. look to your left - there's your eyes following me; but here's the problem: i've never set foot in a room like this one. ____________________________________________________________ I have a lot of questions to be answered but I'll start with the hardest and work my way down. First of all, what time is it? Secondly, do you love me? Third - how did I end up here? Look me in the eyes and lodge your hands into my armpits to keep me from falling into those black spirals you try to play off as corneas. Don't be alarmed at the sight of blood on my hands, I'm merely returned from the very operation you put me up to. First question - "I say! It's your birthday and we're late! We're late for your very own birthday party! Thousands of guests - I mean insects - I mean quests - will cry and cry, and their tears will fertilize the very soil I made your birthday cake out of! Pay no mind to the plastic tablecloth strewn over that solemn rectangle, I had very little time and time is money and what did I just tell you about how the best things in life come free? C'mon, baby. C'mere. A birthday's a birthday, eh?" Second question - "It's hard to find somebody to love in a big gray wire maze. However, it is easy to like somebody you've only seen in 240p. Just joking, just joking. I have this crazy idea that if you spilled maple syrup all over your keyboard, it'd be like taking warm, sticky naps together in the summertime. There's an ice hotel in Greenland that I want to **** myself i, and the only reason the whole place isn't drowning in a puddle of my **** is because you said you'd be here. Where are you, and how many inches thick is your jugular?" Third question - "There are clocks inside of our bodies, biological clocks. Yours seemed nicer than mine, and I want your biological clock in my room ********* Kiss me through ticking tocks running amok in your immune system. I'll skin you alive looking for the perfect shade of furniture polish in your veins. I'll leave your shadow to slip down the drain so you can finally get some peace and quiet. I pulled you peeling from the walls, and I'll leave you there to dry when I'm done. _________________________________________________________________________ I won't even leave so much as a footprint.

0

Feb 4, 2014

Feb 4, 2014 at 11:07 PM UTC

(the) Philosophy (of leg travel)

on your right, you'll see a picture of me awake in the middle of the night; sweating feverishly and falling over a little fence somebody built to keep me grounded. look to your left - there's your eyes following me; but here's the problem: i've never set foot in a room like this one. ____________________________________________________________ I have a lot of questions to be answered but I'll start with the hardest and work my way down. First of all, what time is it? Secondly, do you love me? Third - how did I end up here? Look me in the eyes and lodge your hands into my armpits to keep me from falling into those black spirals you try to play off as corneas. Don't be alarmed at the sight of blood on my hands, I'm merely returned from the very operation you put me up to. First question - "I say! It's your birthday and we're late! We're late for your very own birthday party! Thousands of guests - I mean insects - I mean quests - will cry and cry, and their tears will fertilize the very soil I made your birthday cake out of! Pay no mind to the plastic tablecloth strewn over that solemn rectangle, I had very little time and time is money and what did I just tell you about how the best things in life come free? C'mon, baby. C'mere. A birthday's a birthday, eh?" Second question - "It's hard to find somebody to love in a big gray wire maze. However, it is easy to like somebody you've only seen in 240p. Just joking, just joking. I have this crazy idea that if you spilled maple syrup all over your keyboard, it'd be like taking warm, sticky naps together in the summertime. There's an ice hotel in Greenland that I want to **** myself i, and the only reason the whole place isn't drowning in a puddle of my **** is because you said you'd be here. Where are you, and how many inches thick is your jugular?" Third question - "There are clocks inside of our bodies, biological clocks. Yours seemed nicer than mine, and I want your biological clock in my room ********* Kiss me through ticking tocks running amok in your immune system. I'll skin you alive looking for the perfect shade of furniture polish in your veins. I'll leave your shadow to slip down the drain so you can finally get some peace and quiet. I pulled you peeling from the walls, and I'll leave you there to dry when I'm done. _________________________________________________________________________ I won't even leave so much as a footprint.

16