A breath caught
left with lungs that won't empty,
and a spinning mind that won't quit.
Nothing but a sliver of darkness
now separates our peeking souls.
Thrown-out of hiding
by flames that lick the air
-akin to the striking of a match-
our eyes lock and intertwine
like grape vines, just before the dawn.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 12:27 AM UTC
The body
I want
exists
through the veil of blood that spiderwebs above my eyelids.
The soul
I so desire
screams out like nails on a chalkboard, across my vanes-
and alone, underneath the cupboard drawer.
The human
I loved
hides underneath my larynx
and rests so heavily upon my soul.
It is the monster under my bed
but, I am no longer five so-
I assume night lights are out of the question.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 2:48 AM UTC
Split open, promptly, summer's shine and early morning frost.
Spilling, gleaming, buzz of bees, the smell of your hands.
Stitches, life, eyes that change color in the daytime, the sound of rain.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 2:14 AM UTC
Balloons red as strawberries
sail under the summer wind,
and like dandelion seeds each one
is a selfish wish of mine.
I must try with all my childish might
to save one
before he floats forever up, up, in this strange room with no ceiling.
I'd be a hero!
My name would be written upon bathroom stalls and school house halls, whispered between sticks of gum and candy *** father would finally be so proud.
But as my cherry-colored friend leaves this place
only a hint of sadness remains
because I know wherever he chooses to land, he will safely plant my wish beside him.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
It's such a frighting thing to melt in your own skin, at first it was nothing, then it was more than myself.
I had found an egg in my backyard with me at its center,
all stuffed inside with not much air left to breathe
I wondered how I looked to the average passerby, if I was ugly
or, not unlike a Robins egg, so pretty that even the boys found me beautiful.
Don't touch it or the mommy won't come back we were always told.
I wan't to spend my life laying down and watch the stars fall.
And, occasionally, to wish to go out just the same, but instead I'll just sit in my bed because it's what I know and imagine up a real pretty field somewhere because its where I'd like to go.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 1:35 AM UTC
I wear my heart on my sleeve because I don't really like it much myself.
You can imagine me trying to brush it off like a spider or some demonic beetle, I hope that imagery makes you smile.
And if you feel how I do
Let us run
Fast
Real fast
And maybe our hearts will unhinge and fly away so as to mix in with the autumn leaves.
Now imagine them falling softly like angels with their wings clipped
as dad rakes them into the trashcan.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 1:56 AM UTC
Could I move to believe myself?
Here I burnt you, through fiery love-passion or lust.
But now, after countless rooms of thought, I cease to chip at you.
Not wanting to expose what lay beneath these layers of dirt,
because I am afraid,
afraid of what lie underneath,
as it may be too recognizable.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 12:52 AM UTC
The wind swept the leagues of sea-foam up onto the shore, mingling there apathetically, before returning home. The sand shone like polished brass, and the sun, bloated and full, exhumed beauty through the medium of light. It spilled over everything. There were no exceptions, nothing could be exempt from the arches of gold that spiraled through the treetops before resting on the ocean floor.
It is found underneath the rotting log, between the hermit crab's legs, bouncing off the seagull's feathers, churns through the waterfalls.
And we, perceived as so small, yet behold the world in its entirety, can do the same. Able to give unconditionally just as easily, have our charity of love expand just as softly. When asked of my dreams, I think of this.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 1:24 AM UTC
Im not sure how much I like it here
The lights strung along these walls are more like little blazing suns
and my eyes are unable to adjust to any of them.
The overwhelming taste of frosting makes my nose itch and
I want to go home.
But I cant, because I was brought here and thrown out of hiding.
Like a dog with it's tail beneath his legs I smiled, grinned really, I was grinning like I had gold between my teeth.
And they laughed their fee-fi-fo-fum laugh and I tried to laugh back but,
You know how it goes?
Giants always seem to ****** your breath away.
Maybe its their smell.
In my head I rehearse
Where's the bathroom?
Where's the bathroom?
But in reality I mean
"How do you exit this castle, and are you sure there's no crocodiles in that mote?"
Besides, If you can count the years of my life with candles on a cake then I haven't lived long enough to die here.
And what happens when I blow them all out?
The smoke is giving me a headache, and I can now feel the wrinkles cracking above my flushed cheeks.
Please save me from this fortress of fumblers because
I want to go home.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
In warmth beneath the insulated drywall
I curse my gooey insides
for not being as solid
as the lamented linoleum
moreover, I wish I didn't need
to declare such trivialities but
I do
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC