the pages of my notebook are probably more lovelorn than i'll ever be
idk
i never longed to be a tree burying my roots deep into Her soil, moaning
okay maybe i did because sometimes i only exist in crumpled up shreds of graphing paper between my awkward handwriting and
things i wish i'd have told you,
residing at the bottom of the ******* bin
(we're all writing about somebody)
fundamentally, i only exist between the blue lines and the margins
i want to be a tree again
Mother Earth is a **** (i mean, dang bruh, she's beautiful)
want my roots reaching as far into her as they'll go / want her attached to me in every way possible / want her in every way possible
i want to stay here forever
if i fall alone in the forest **** right i'll make a sound:
symphony of the lovelorn branches in C-minor except it's not really a symphony i'm just giving an impromptu solo to my ******* bin,
i have played the viola since 6th grade and
heartstrings since 7th
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 2:48 AM UTC
hip bones under hips, hips to lips, lisping lips, sheer lace slips, butterfly clips,
heated hips to heated hips
bruised hips under bleeding lips, the pink slip, slow dance dips, managing on meager tips, frisky nips,
tired hip to tired hip
sad lips under comatose lips, archaic fingertips, tightening grips, worn baking mits, lips to head/soul to stars
cadaveric hips to a bleeding heart
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
in my dream last night, i fancied the way your lips parted softly in your sleep
your mouth was Elysian and your eyes were dancing beneath their lids
i hope you were dreaming of things that make you happy (i am no longer ignorant enough to hope that i am what makes you happy)
i fancied the way that your nose was red from the cold you just got over
your face was so peaceful and honest in that space of me watching you dream in my dream
they say the truth can be ugly
and that the truth can set you free
but looking at you, wrapped in slumber, unable to deceive
i think truth is the loveliest thing in the world
and
i will never be free of you, even when i wake
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 2:05 AM UTC
all of these corridors lead to my heart
the way that all the old roads lead to Rome.
all of these corridors are verdant
with graffiti of things i imagine you might have said to me
if this were a different timeline where our fatestrings intertwined
for longer than that one school year.
i think, these walls won't ever be red again
and i know they won't be
because these are the dreams i entice towards Rome
and to preserve my dreams I keep them airtight
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 7:21 PM UTC
i feel like a queen in a king sized bed. the edge of my quilt is the edge of my terrain, and i
i believe the world is just too big for me
on another note, the sadness is back. it feels like this:
-December
-overwatered flowers
-flash freeze
-snowed-over sand
-abandoned parks
-carpet carpet carpet burn
-corset laced tighter than my own ribs
-nine years old bedazzling my eyelids even though it hurts
-becoming a frost flower and
-New Orleans 2005, because that's what waking up from nightmares is like:
clammy palms
empty lungs
hurricane blown but you still wake up utterly alone in a king sized bed that you don't really fill up
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 3:57 PM UTC
pour rice down my throat to staunch the flow of blood
on each grain is a something,
an art,
art through the ages,
my body is an art
I am blur and gray, day and dawn
broken choruses string all the worlds in my eyes together
and force them to sing a something
about eyes like stars
the thing is that I'm not looking up
(I'm never looking up
I'm terrified by the shades that linger in the more upper rings of Hell)
I'm looking down and around and I'm surrounded by stars
this is the bottom of the lagoon
I am an everdrown
Ophelia, wake up!
(she's gone she's gone she's gone)
godspeed starlight swimmer
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
do you cut your diamonds on those sharp, pretty little horns of yours? i bet you do.
do you wash your upper-echelonic car with the tears of your victims? i bet you do, i know you do.
you burn out the water-logged hearts of sailors stricken by your siren song
with a body hot enough to turn sand to glass
but a heart cold enough to **** the sun dead fast
you act like queen of hell
(but you taste/look/smell
like heaven)
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 10:38 AM UTC
again again again
remember
that we were friends
and we aren't friends
plastic teardrops
plastic silence
plastic lies
glass pride
glass voices
glass trust
that we broke
and we break
all over
again again again
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 10:15 PM UTC
how many times over have i realized that you think Halloween is more exciting than my birthday?
(both are on workdays, don't act like you're too busy because have you even had a job in the past few months?)
how many times over have i realized that we honestly aren't as close as we used to be, anymore?
(yeah you'll pin me to the door and hug me but what does that mean? hugs weren't ever a solid representation of anything we felt.)
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 4:29 PM UTC
i came here to write, not play iSpy with turtles in the duck-crap encrusted, man-made lake of the park i grew up going to
i came here to tell a story. the story about the way your eyes were in between green and brown and how i always told you they were very ugly because hatred and love-written-in-Times New Roman-and-printed-then-ripped-to-shreds were your only two emotions (but we were in seventh grade then and i actually didn't say any of that because i actually thought you were perfection manifested into the form of a bowl-cut haired Iranian boy)
i came here to paint the walls of your room sanguine instead of Southern sky blue (it's blood, not paint (that's why i'm laughing)) and tattoo words i don't know the definition to all over your inner thighs (i'll use my mouth if you want, even though i already told you i wasn't here to fool around)
actually, i came here to tell you that i love you
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC