xantepleure - Hello Poetry

Face twitching in laughter with spilled blue ink stored eyes that await the drought. Laugh it off and hold your structure from breaking down. The child in you is shifting between bedridden negligence and swell spent playground evenings. Dragonflies circling your abdomen - you\ve been nervous; ached for the past flash light of years. A guilty mishap shaped by a mother’s palms and dusted off by a father’s words. Her mental abortion, and his physical disappointment; The stigmatic product. Such black thoughts will fade into the whiteness of snow, but happiness is eventually cursed with superstition. Those who crossed you breathe, while you barely manage your way to it. About to tie an apology around your neck, it occurs to you, how just yesterday you thought to yourself exuberantly that hot showers on sunny winters are to live for; How ironic.

0

Mar 28, 2016

Mar 28, 2016 at 2:11 PM UTC

voice of silence

Face twitching in laughter with spilled blue ink stored eyes that await the drought. Laugh it off and hold your structure from breaking down. The child in you is shifting between bedridden negligence and swell spent playground evenings. Dragonflies circling your abdomen - you\ve been nervous; ached for the past flash light of years. A guilty mishap shaped by a mother’s palms and dusted off by a father’s words. Her mental abortion, and his physical disappointment; The stigmatic product. Such black thoughts will fade into the whiteness of snow, but happiness is eventually cursed with superstition. Those who crossed you breathe, while you barely manage your way to it. About to tie an apology around your neck, it occurs to you, how just yesterday you thought to yourself exuberantly that hot showers on sunny winters are to live for; How ironic.

1

let’s drink cyanide milk to enhance our bodies & ribcages. let’s melt with infatuation and forever call it “love" as we keep it in heart as an understatement, & a blanketing term.

0

Mar 27, 2016

Mar 27, 2016 at 2:37 AM UTC

self-destruction, in pairs, in unison

let’s drink cyanide milk to enhance our bodies & ribcages. let’s melt with infatuation and forever call it “love" as we keep it in heart as an understatement, & a blanketing term.

6

*i've digested crimson tiles off your bathroom floor just to get a reaction; an influence for the perception of acceptance. does it at least hinder or unsettle you, the red that runs down my face? lower than low; close to invoke even when the color’s close to my chest, it ceased to disturb. i've only existed behind someones else's eyes for so long i need to shut my own lids next to you till I’m out of a blur. your sphere of smeared wallpapers close in on you, i claim what you walked out of — a circle that rounds your comfort. you’re boiling in a shade that reflects what I’ve stained myself with. the room is in fragments; a gore and scene of demolishment reminds you of a cancer burnt unseen. hands of guilt washed with mournful streams of survival you find drops of me left in the sink i’m a mere nosebleed, you recollect me off your floor thrown into the blackness of the back of your head, that you rest and rest, as you lie down, until you’ve forgotten all about me*

0

Mar 26, 2016

Mar 26, 2016 at 11:35 PM UTC

goRe

*i've digested crimson tiles off your bathroom floor just to get a reaction; an influence for the perception of acceptance. does it at least hinder or unsettle you, the red that runs down my face? lower than low; close to invoke even when the color’s close to my chest, it ceased to disturb. i've only existed behind someones else's eyes for so long i need to shut my own lids next to you till I’m out of a blur. your sphere of smeared wallpapers close in on you, i claim what you walked out of — a circle that rounds your comfort. you’re boiling in a shade that reflects what I’ve stained myself with. the room is in fragments; a gore and scene of demolishment reminds you of a cancer burnt unseen. hands of guilt washed with mournful streams of survival you find drops of me left in the sink i’m a mere nosebleed, you recollect me off your floor thrown into the blackness of the back of your head, that you rest and rest, as you lie down, until you’ve forgotten all about me*

21

i've slipped on the attitude to lure in then drift off the "ideal you" into oblivion now that nothing's the same and all is stripped down in its natural clean state you can thank me later with a pragmatic crown

0

Nov 6, 2015

Nov 6, 2015 at 6:54 PM UTC

hard-nosed beguiler

i've slipped on the attitude to lure in then drift off the "ideal you" into oblivion now that nothing's the same and all is stripped down in its natural clean state you can thank me later with a pragmatic crown

8

it’s like your words send rain that washes the earth of all aches and leaves it clean as a mirror then the scented light emerges wilted plants yet manage to grow again and you’re all sleepy eyes & bashful maybe because we're both transparent & the sun’s staring right through us instead of curling up in fear you embrace the warmth of the invader you’ve always been that way which brings others to heavy merriment but with a question of how can one remain innocent by nature that serves nothing to the art of cynicism

0

Nov 1, 2015

Nov 1, 2015 at 1:50 PM UTC

kohl residue

it’s like your words send rain that washes the earth of all aches and leaves it clean as a mirror then the scented light emerges wilted plants yet manage to grow again and you’re all sleepy eyes & bashful maybe because we're both transparent & the sun’s staring right through us instead of curling up in fear you embrace the warmth of the invader you’ve always been that way which brings others to heavy merriment but with a question of how can one remain innocent by nature that serves nothing to the art of cynicism

16

*inside a bad mouth rests an ashtray lack of movement reek of red-tainted cigarettes sore and left with spit scratched out beyond all recognition*

0

Oct 25, 2015

Oct 25, 2015 at 5:40 AM UTC

scratched bullet

*inside a bad mouth rests an ashtray lack of movement reek of red-tainted cigarettes sore and left with spit scratched out beyond all recognition*

6

your light woke me up like a passive blessing you breathe into my being I’m reborn right after sleep & your existence - you being here is my make-belief

0

Oct 25, 2015

Oct 25, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC

BLU PETL

your light woke me up like a passive blessing you breathe into my being I’m reborn right after sleep & your existence - you being here is my make-belief

6

— Inject me in your veins like I’m the finest drug you’ll ever taste.

0

Oct 23, 2015

Oct 23, 2015 at 10:04 AM UTC

***

— Inject me in your veins like I’m the finest drug you’ll ever taste.

3

**** to the bone inhibiting you is the “gospel” you’ve only ever known & it’s been preached down your pureness now the moon is bleaker than ever scars decorating your chest & sin’s throned your shadow how come your eyes are even turning blacker? you’re distorted like the sheep they’ve lead and the confession you attempt to shed oh, how loaded and heavy it trips over your vocal chords *“pray for me, for you possess the sincerity to heaven’s doors”* entrust & I shall vow to you my open skull - your bucket of absolution which you'll feed on .. the path of truth till its final morsel — the void & bones of a hunger-fed wolf

0

Oct 23, 2015

Oct 23, 2015 at 10:03 AM UTC

untitled

**** to the bone inhibiting you is the “gospel” you’ve only ever known & it’s been preached down your pureness now the moon is bleaker than ever scars decorating your chest & sin’s throned your shadow how come your eyes are even turning blacker? you’re distorted like the sheep they’ve lead and the confession you attempt to shed oh, how loaded and heavy it trips over your vocal chords *“pray for me, for you possess the sincerity to heaven’s doors”* entrust & I shall vow to you my open skull - your bucket of absolution which you'll feed on .. the path of truth till its final morsel — the void & bones of a hunger-fed wolf

20

It’s 12AM sharp And I murmur to myself, What a brand new day to sleep off. On a doleful Wednesday, I can tell I’m coming down with something. I am equivalent to a bottle of nonalcoholic whisky infused with maple syrup. Distasteful but creative; Limited ******* edition. See, disregarding how terrible my state tastes like I still make perfect sense and sound tempting, I always do.

0

Oct 21, 2015

Oct 21, 2015 at 10:59 AM UTC

CHRONIC the B

It’s 12AM sharp And I murmur to myself, What a brand new day to sleep off. On a doleful Wednesday, I can tell I’m coming down with something. I am equivalent to a bottle of nonalcoholic whisky infused with maple syrup. Distasteful but creative; Limited ******* edition. See, disregarding how terrible my state tastes like I still make perfect sense and sound tempting, I always do.

13