wanderer-1 - Hello Poetry

I only find the scratches on my fingers after you leave, although I am often electrocuted in your presence.

0

Mar 3, 2013

Mar 3, 2013 at 2:22 PM UTC

wanderer-1

Sparks

I only find the scratches on my fingers after you leave, although I am often electrocuted in your presence.

6

All the truths That I hold within myself Crowd my mind, So that when I open my mouth, Only meaningless words Emerge.

0

Mar 3, 2013

Mar 3, 2013 at 2:20 PM UTC

wanderer-1

Disconnection

All the truths That I hold within myself Crowd my mind, So that when I open my mouth, Only meaningless words Emerge.

6

I excel at Making --And then breaking-- Promises. If I lift my eyes heavenward Searching for you, My vision is obstructed By the stars And so I know, I must close my eyes And focus inwards, instead, To find you.

0

Mar 3, 2013

Mar 3, 2013 at 2:20 PM UTC

wanderer-1

Untitled

I excel at Making --And then breaking-- Promises. If I lift my eyes heavenward Searching for you, My vision is obstructed By the stars And so I know, I must close my eyes And focus inwards, instead, To find you.

12

That last breath was so much sweeter. I know I've come to this point when my fingers can no longer move of their own volition, and I snap, and nothing flies. Do you fly? Sometimes I feel an ache in the back of my shoulders, and my feet lift slightly off the ground. I revel in the moment, although my chest always feels tighter afterwards, and the bitterness in my mouth tastes like you.

0

Mar 3, 2013

Mar 3, 2013 at 2:18 PM UTC

wanderer-1

Vertigo

That last breath was so much sweeter. I know I've come to this point when my fingers can no longer move of their own volition, and I snap, and nothing flies. Do you fly? Sometimes I feel an ache in the back of my shoulders, and my feet lift slightly off the ground. I revel in the moment, although my chest always feels tighter afterwards, and the bitterness in my mouth tastes like you.

19

6 more cigarettes, she counts, rationing her existence. Finding something to need other than sleep is refreshing. She can hear his voice through the walls and she inhales deeply. She needs the smoke to blacken her lungs as a small pittance of retribution, reflecting the blackness she holds in her heart. And, as she exhales, she lets the smoke burn her eye as she watches watches it coil and curl away. Someday she will display her wounds proudly as battle scars. Bur first she must survive, and heal. 5 more to go.

0

Feb 19, 2013

Feb 19, 2013 at 8:19 PM UTC

wanderer-1

Countdown To Him

6 more cigarettes, she counts, rationing her existence. Finding something to need other than sleep is refreshing. She can hear his voice through the walls and she inhales deeply. She needs the smoke to blacken her lungs as a small pittance of retribution, reflecting the blackness she holds in her heart. And, as she exhales, she lets the smoke burn her eye as she watches watches it coil and curl away. Someday she will display her wounds proudly as battle scars. Bur first she must survive, and heal. 5 more to go.

19

But I can’t help it. My words form stanzas all on their own. And jagged broken lines. Prose. Sharp neat line after sharp neat line that goes on and on forever forming endless boxes of words how do I stop when do I breath where am I can you find me? Did you know. His eyes and your sky turn into my words and this is all I have. Poetry is all I have. Take it from me and all you will have will be cold frigid air.

0

Nov 13, 2011

Nov 13, 2011 at 11:19 PM UTC

wanderer-1

You say no more poetry

But I can’t help it. My words form stanzas all on their own. And jagged broken lines. Prose. Sharp neat line after sharp neat line that goes on and on forever forming endless boxes of words how do I stop when do I breath where am I can you find me? Did you know. His eyes and your sky turn into my words and this is all I have. Poetry is all I have. Take it from me and all you will have will be cold frigid air.

19