marion-cline - Hello Poetry

ombré shadows hazelnut health help sparkling necks please come back to my chest cure the apple bruises the hardness of the night the zeal and lust for all things natural help my wandering bones clouds perfumed with smoke moans that shiver my brain faces lit by the scenery the blank walled scenery angels floating on your wallpaper let minds fly down into a cavern. maybe let the yellow yawns echo throughout the stars into your sickness. **** me to make me more like you and so if I sing into air it's heavenly air

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Oct 26, 2015

Oct 26, 2015 at 7:01 PM UTC

marion-cline

all things natural

ombré shadows hazelnut health help sparkling necks please come back to my chest cure the apple bruises the hardness of the night the zeal and lust for all things natural help my wandering bones clouds perfumed with smoke moans that shiver my brain faces lit by the scenery the blank walled scenery angels floating on your wallpaper let minds fly down into a cavern. maybe let the yellow yawns echo throughout the stars into your sickness. **** me to make me more like you and so if I sing into air it's heavenly air

22

please forgive me for, my weak knees, my cruel eyes, my hungry smile, the curves of my body, the curves of my lip, my angry brain, my sick brain, my tired brain, my cold fingertips, my impure hair, my over pleading tears, my ****** fingernails, my faintly lit neck, forgive me for everything in me that's faintly lit. I have not the courage to turn on all the lights.

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Aug 8, 2015

Aug 8, 2015 at 4:11 AM UTC

marion-cline

confession

please forgive me for, my weak knees, my cruel eyes, my hungry smile, the curves of my body, the curves of my lip, my angry brain, my sick brain, my tired brain, my cold fingertips, my impure hair, my over pleading tears, my ****** fingernails, my faintly lit neck, forgive me for everything in me that's faintly lit. I have not the courage to turn on all the lights.

5

outside: Help needed! Feed the children! inside: weak knees, white apple flesh skin (it's not their fault they were born in a doll house) outside: empty soup kitchens, blind volunteers inside: not enough light to grow, tiny bones, tug dead hair, find something to do outside: God help the children! inside: minds buzzing for frantic change outside: give them more make them eat inside: shivering mirrors, shivering thoughts, sickness and rotten fridges outside: you're perfect the way you are inside: change me, hair pieces all over the ground outside: life! inside: hidden in a rib cage outside: just try inside: filmy eyes splatter raindrops, fall into the black lagoon bulging from beneath

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Aug 8, 2015

Aug 8, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC

marion-cline

america's starving children

outside: Help needed! Feed the children! inside: weak knees, white apple flesh skin (it's not their fault they were born in a doll house) outside: empty soup kitchens, blind volunteers inside: not enough light to grow, tiny bones, tug dead hair, find something to do outside: God help the children! inside: minds buzzing for frantic change outside: give them more make them eat inside: shivering mirrors, shivering thoughts, sickness and rotten fridges outside: you're perfect the way you are inside: change me, hair pieces all over the ground outside: life! inside: hidden in a rib cage outside: just try inside: filmy eyes splatter raindrops, fall into the black lagoon bulging from beneath

14

I hope they can live the way I couldn't; slowly, and in the light.

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Aug 8, 2015

Aug 8, 2015 at 3:56 AM UTC

marion-cline

plants

I hope they can live the way I couldn't; slowly, and in the light.

3

so the wind has blown over your head. (again) you're still sickly come back to the ground or stand and watch, watch your veins grow darker (forests of black ivy all over your wrists) ***** over and over and over and over like when they lock you in a room, or you do it yourself. you've hated and you've loved, when everything tears you to papery shreds, yawning walls, dead grey blistered mouths & the moons getting brighter until it swallows you whole with your mind buzzing kaleidoscope-everything hands sweating for this frozen wasteland lusts for drops of sweet scented turquoise air and like the rest of your life you've trampled yourself again you're like a bruised sack of bones again time to do the dishes they can never leave you alone.

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Jul 6, 2015

Jul 6, 2015 at 8:06 PM UTC

marion-cline

bedroom life (again)

so the wind has blown over your head. (again) you're still sickly come back to the ground or stand and watch, watch your veins grow darker (forests of black ivy all over your wrists) ***** over and over and over and over like when they lock you in a room, or you do it yourself. you've hated and you've loved, when everything tears you to papery shreds, yawning walls, dead grey blistered mouths & the moons getting brighter until it swallows you whole with your mind buzzing kaleidoscope-everything hands sweating for this frozen wasteland lusts for drops of sweet scented turquoise air and like the rest of your life you've trampled yourself again you're like a bruised sack of bones again time to do the dishes they can never leave you alone.

31

the sun has beautiful blood you've watched it splash across the horizon over the ocean, like a fireworks show watched it with cold eyes feeling victorious like a man again (if you are one) like you've survived another day. watch the suns demise remember the reflection on your face take a picture; it's your favorite time of day! you won't blink you'll let it linger in your brain & you'll wake up with silky sick nightmares and you won't remember why you're all grown up you're all lies but maybe the first time you saw a sunset you cried

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Jul 3, 2015

Jul 3, 2015 at 3:58 AM UTC

marion-cline

the suns demise

the sun has beautiful blood you've watched it splash across the horizon over the ocean, like a fireworks show watched it with cold eyes feeling victorious like a man again (if you are one) like you've survived another day. watch the suns demise remember the reflection on your face take a picture; it's your favorite time of day! you won't blink you'll let it linger in your brain & you'll wake up with silky sick nightmares and you won't remember why you're all grown up you're all lies but maybe the first time you saw a sunset you cried

21

there's a ghost in this house & teeth marks in my tongue from the times I've had to stop myself. if you want me to walk with you, put me in a greenhouse so I won't complain about the frigid air. hold me close, not when I cry but when our eyes meet and there's tears in mine. and when I turn into that ghost when I become hallowed out and dry and sick, like a cicada; (it will happen) when my brain is reduced to leftover spaghetti mush and my eyes are glazed over glazed like the cake I would never eat if it's you, you can touch me oh my God it's so cold here

0

Jun 15, 2015

Jun 15, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC

marion-cline

greenhouse days

there's a ghost in this house & teeth marks in my tongue from the times I've had to stop myself. if you want me to walk with you, put me in a greenhouse so I won't complain about the frigid air. hold me close, not when I cry but when our eyes meet and there's tears in mine. and when I turn into that ghost when I become hallowed out and dry and sick, like a cicada; (it will happen) when my brain is reduced to leftover spaghetti mush and my eyes are glazed over glazed like the cake I would never eat if it's you, you can touch me oh my God it's so cold here

23

to the humans with the glassy eyes, i know they've been hurt before (your eyes, thrown against the wall, like a jar filled with rotten marbles) cauliflower-clouded mind red-scented sleep & i pray to God those pills dissolve in your sanitized hands. don't cry when it's over; cry now i can see milky white stars in your eyes and soft pink bubble gum-flavored clouds and lazy green rivers and violent violet nights and a deep howl in you when you think you can't go on. and you burn yourself with empty looks and break yourself by lying down and **** yourself by forgetting that the lightning storm ever came. flying doesn't always set people free. remember that.

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Jun 15, 2015

Jun 15, 2015 at 4:07 PM UTC

marion-cline

to the humans with the glassy eyes

to the humans with the glassy eyes, i know they've been hurt before (your eyes, thrown against the wall, like a jar filled with rotten marbles) cauliflower-clouded mind red-scented sleep & i pray to God those pills dissolve in your sanitized hands. don't cry when it's over; cry now i can see milky white stars in your eyes and soft pink bubble gum-flavored clouds and lazy green rivers and violent violet nights and a deep howl in you when you think you can't go on. and you burn yourself with empty looks and break yourself by lying down and **** yourself by forgetting that the lightning storm ever came. flying doesn't always set people free. remember that.

28

in this cube of angular anger there's a town made of clouds. sour wind sounds like bed sheets, & indigo solar radiation. don't explain: our eyes are the same, but the depressants seem to be gooeyer in your world. find a way to create a rubber convenience store. (to buy squishy cigarettes) build glass palaces so the world can see you strip down. your world. and you'd like that.

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Jun 8, 2015

Jun 8, 2015 at 3:42 PM UTC

marion-cline

angular earth

in this cube of angular anger there's a town made of clouds. sour wind sounds like bed sheets, & indigo solar radiation. don't explain: our eyes are the same, but the depressants seem to be gooeyer in your world. find a way to create a rubber convenience store. (to buy squishy cigarettes) build glass palaces so the world can see you strip down. your world. and you'd like that.

21

There’s broken glass in my foot clear symmetrical triangles dangling off my foot like a dazzling chandelier. But pain. like a dragons claw, like a witches fingernail cut deep and the oozing, dripping, thick scarlet liquid seeping over the bathroom tiles, reflects my dazed face. Where am I? My pale, white, finger extends and dips into the red and now the lines on my hands are all red and my eyes blur with the color red. I walk down stairs. Isn't everything romanticized? Red flowers, red skin, red lips, red breath. But the eyes, the eyes are red and I suppose that is what really impales me.

0

Jun 6, 2015

Jun 6, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC

marion-cline

broken glass/ red

There’s broken glass in my foot clear symmetrical triangles dangling off my foot like a dazzling chandelier. But pain. like a dragons claw, like a witches fingernail cut deep and the oozing, dripping, thick scarlet liquid seeping over the bathroom tiles, reflects my dazed face. Where am I? My pale, white, finger extends and dips into the red and now the lines on my hands are all red and my eyes blur with the color red. I walk down stairs. Isn't everything romanticized? Red flowers, red skin, red lips, red breath. But the eyes, the eyes are red and I suppose that is what really impales me.

30