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May 12 · 277
Morning Dew
Datore Fargo May 12
Her skin tastes,
that of stars,
and her hair,
has the scent,
of lilacs,
and driftwood,
tainted by,
morningdew.
I can’t help,
but stop,
and stare for,
just a few.
http://kck.st/3skMlHL
Please check out this kickstarter! I am publishing an illustrated poetry book, contact me and let’s make dreams come true!
May 1 · 1.1k
Tornado
Datore Fargo May 1
There’s a tornado,
in my throat,
and I,
can’t seem,
to get the words,
out of,
the pit,
in my stomach.
I’m choking,
on letters,
that make words,
never heard.
Apr 11 · 127
Mr. Fish
Datore Fargo Apr 11
Don’t drown,
Mr. Fish,
he forgot,
how to hold,
his breath.
Glub glub,
he says.
His fins,
don’t work,
Mr. Fish,
can’t you,
swim?
The water is,
too deep,
in his bowl.
Don’t drown,
Mr. Fish.
Mar 16 · 187
Girl
Datore Fargo Mar 16
There's a girl in the glass box,
poor little bird can't fly.
Her wings have been snipped,
bound in ribbon,
made of knives.
Girl in the glass box,
what are you doing in there?
I can see you screaming,
why can't I hear a sound?
Please, shattered doll,
don't you cry,
you're out of time.
Girl in the glass box,
who are you?
With your brown hair,
made of curls,
won't you please tell me?
Poor broken doll,
with her bruised,
bleeding porcelain skin.
Girl in the glass box,
will you let me in?
Mar 16 · 205
Self-diagnosis
Datore Fargo Mar 16
I am unable to be happy,
that is my conclusion,
a self-diagnosis.
I simply just,
cannot be satisfied,
it's just that,
honestly.
I sit there,
and stare,
dumbfounded,
I don't know,
I don't care.
Bottom lip sticking out,
legs crossed,
arms folded,
tapping the mole,
on my left bicep.
It's not my fault,
really,
I'm frustrated,
it isn't fair.
I don’t care,
I don't know,
how to be happy,
that is my conclusion,
a self-diagnosis.
Mar 8 · 284
Cutlery
Datore Fargo Mar 8
My legs,
I can’t feel them.
Dear God,
I can’t move.
The devil,
put a curse,
on me.
He cracked,
my bones,
used them,
as forks,
and spoons.
I've become,
cutlery,
for Satan,
instead.
Feb 16 · 176
Tantrum
Datore Fargo Feb 16
I found myself,
drowning,
unable,
to reach,
the surface.
Not quite,
dead,
yet unable,
to be called,
living.
My lungs fill,
to the brim,
as if I’m the,
sunkissed pitcher,
with sour lemonade,
inside of it.
I can’t breathe,
I’m pursed lipped,
wont accept it,
it is not,
my decision.
My cheeks,
warm yet,
wet.
Salty,
unlike,
my lungs.
It’s not,
fair,
but I’m not,
a child,
anymore.
Throwing,
tantrums,
until you give,
and I get,
my way.
Jan 14 · 196
Bury Me
Datore Fargo Jan 14
Please,
I beg of,
thee,
bury,
me.
No,
a snorkel,
isn’t,
necessary,
I do not,
require,
to breathe,
and I forgot,
how to swim.
Bring tools,
to dig,
a hole,
deep.
****,
I broke,
a nail,
attempting,
free.
Worthless,
please,
push dirt,
over my head,
I’d much rather,
be dead.
Grant my wish,
desperately,
I’ve been,
good,
promisingly,
let me,
leave.
Jan 5 · 211
Living
Datore Fargo Jan 5
This year,
I want to,
live.
I’ll fly,
on onyx wings,
made of butterflies,
and broken,
tree limbs.
This year,
I crave to,
grow.
I’ll plant,
my own seeds,
and water,
roots,
that I’m sure,
will reach.
This year,
I’m going to,
jump.
I’ll hold,
my breath,
and know,
that yes,
I’m learning,
once again,
I can,
breathe.
This year,
I’m going to,
live,
I will fly,
jump right in,
into water,
that will grow,
my garden,
holding my breath,
I will swim,
to the surface,
breathing.
Nov 2021 · 324
Worm
Datore Fargo Nov 2021
I hope,
you’re dead,
with little,
tiny maggots,
swimming,
in your,
head.
That’d be too,
easy,
like a fish,
off the hook.
I want you,
to be,
the worm,
wriggling,
for a sense of,
free.
I will,
dig you from,
the dirt,
you call,
home,
squish you,
under my,
converse.
Nov 2021 · 268
I Don’t Know You
Datore Fargo Nov 2021
She’s a sun dancer,
she smiles softly,
and breathes kisses,
onto the nape,
of your neck.
She lights cigarettes,
with the heat,
from her,
chest.
Is it sin,
forbidden,
to take a taste,
of the flavors,
she mixed?
Fingertips,
glide hesitantly,
among her,
hips.
Lustful marks,
left behind,
bruised fingerprints,
the curves,
of crooked,
teeth,
and my own,
dreams.
I don’t know her,
but I inhale,
and huff,
her in.
Nov 2021 · 320
Wings
Datore Fargo Nov 2021
I saw butterflies,
perch,
on my toes,
last night.
They fluttered down,
from the ceiling,
calling my sole,
their home.
Onyx wings,
somehow sparkle,
in the late,
early hours,
of dawn.
I ponder,
will they,
carry me,
to my end,
this time?
Only wishes,
and the anxiety,
of being lost,
again,
this time.
I dream,
of freedom,
from reality.
It’s mocking my,
illusions,
birthing them into,
hallucinations.
My brain,
broken,
haphazardly,
glueing,
the pieces,
together.
Lost,
I’m drowning,
forgotten,
I should be,
flying.
Recently I’ve been sick, I’ve been having seizures, hallucinations. Unfortunately we haven’t figured out what is wrong with me, it’s neurological. I start medicine today so I may disappear for a while, but this poem is the closest I can get to expressing me again. I hope you enjoy.
Oct 2021 · 211
Kiss
Datore Fargo Oct 2021
Lips pursed,
blowing bubbles,
and placing kisses,
on the back of,
wrists,
that lay there,
bleeding.
A sick,
smile,
a smirking,
child,
breathes hot air,
against fogged windows,
drawing pictures,
of ******,
figures.
The world is all,
consuming,
trapping me behind,
bars,
bullet proof glass rooms,
it keeps me,
spinning.
I am twisting,
turning,
my stomach,
it keeps it churning,
dizzying,
I am losing,
no I’m,
winning.
Drink the liquor,
it drowns out,
the sound,
and keeps,
us swimming.
Nicotine laced,
smoking kisses,
it helps you,
pull the trigger.
Oct 2021 · 208
Homesick
Datore Fargo Oct 2021
I used to,
beg to be,
different.
Longed for,
oddity,
uniqueness.
Now I’m craving,
normality,
familiar,
experiences.
God is mocking me,
finally granting,
my wishes.
While also,
divulging in my,
desires.
It’s not,
fair,
I no longer,
yearn to,
disappear.
But there seems,
to be a,
delay in,
messages.
I prayed,
at the wrong,
time,
and now,
I’ve forgotten,
how to say,
amen.
Can someone,
pay the toll,
I’m losing,
my way,
home.
Oct 2021 · 267
Minute
Datore Fargo Oct 2021
Light a cigarette,
and it,
fills your consciousness.
It drowns your mind,
it pools into your lungs,
it teaches you how to live it,
poisons your brain.
Can you remember,
how to breathe,
take one in,
scream it out,
pull the trigger,
and blow your mind.
Stop and think,
for just a minute,
nicotine laced smoke kisses,
to clear the head.
Pop a percocet,
choke on the curses,
bite the hand,
that fed your ***** mouth,
you sick child,
don’t you listen?
Light a cigarette,
stop and breathe,
for just a,
minute.
Oct 2021 · 568
Sin
Datore Fargo Oct 2021
Sin
Last night,
I dreamt,
of your lips,
pressed gently,
against my,
pale neck.
My heart,
skips,
sputters,
to a pause.
I ponder,
if you too,
dream of sin.
The fog carries,
a lust,
I have only,
been forbid.
Sep 2021 · 238
Hold On
Datore Fargo Sep 2021
You told me,
don’t let go,
even when,
you’re dead.
Then you,
unlocked,
our fingers,
like taking,
one last breath.
You’re not dead,
just a reflection,
in a smudged mirror,
cracked far beyond,
repair.
I won’t let go,
but not because,
you told me so.
I’ll turn my,
back to the,
past.
In the sky,
look for me,
this time.
I’m the one,
holding on,
to the clouds.
Aug 2021 · 85
Nostalgic
Datore Fargo Aug 2021
It’s the smell of cigarettes,
too early in the morning.
When you choke on your own spit,
and snort while you laugh.
It’s the carbonated drink,
in the old pillsbury dough boy cup.
The way the sun shines,
between white curtains,
that are almost translucent.
It’s saying the word,
“****!”,
when your lighter doesn’t work.
It’s the red carpet on the stairs,
and the way they creak,
when you haven’t quite mastered them.
It’s making mud pies,
in the puddle of your driveway,
every time it pours.
When you hit the wrong light switch,
though it’s been more than a few years
It’s the sound of the breaks,
when the bus stops in the morning,
and you can barely roll out of bed.
The sweet smell of dandelions,
before your dad mows them.
It’s dyeing your hair,
and staining your friend’s bathroom sink.
It’s losing your bra in a glovebox,
and never finding it again.
It’s learning how to live,
before you lose your chance.
Aug 2021 · 537
Read Me
Datore Fargo Aug 2021
When you,
feel alone,
and can’t,
seem,
to stay,
afloat.
Read me,
when you,
seem so,
down,
you can,
only,
go up.
Read me,
when you,
are unable,
to breathe,
the words,
seem lost,
in between,
your teeth.
Read me,
when you,
can’t seem,
to read,
and the words,
are just,
gibberish,
on the blinking,
screen.
Read me,
when you,
feel as if,
you need,
to be,
read.
Aug 2021 · 118
Stardust
Datore Fargo Aug 2021
She’s made of,
stardust,
and dances,
on the surface,
of the,
moon.
She breathes,
the scent,
of roses,
with a hint,
of cigarettes,
and black cherry,
incense.
She intoxicates,
the room,
with her,
presence,
as she twirls,
and spins,
the world,
does too.
Aug 2021 · 618
Eyes
Datore Fargo Aug 2021
Her eyes,
follow you,
across the crowd.
And you,
your curiosity,
can’t help it.
She blushes,
turns away,
didn’t see,
the glint,
in your own.
Is this,
the start,
of a cliché,
garbage,
romance?
Big brown eyes,
can only see,
what the daytime,
can’t.
Girl’s a daydreamer,
in the search,
of a night owl,
dance.
Aug 2021 · 153
Silence
Datore Fargo Aug 2021
I keep her,
in a jar,
tight lipped,
and sealed,
with holes,
big enough,
for air.
She screams,
muffled,
by her own,
containment.
If she,
cries,
she might,
drown,
in her own,
confinement.
No one,
is aware,
of my little,
experiment.
It hurts,
me,
more than,
her,
to witness,
entrapment.
My heart,
shatters,
at the,
predicament.
But I can’t,
speak,
I lost,
the words,
and the pen,
to write them.
Jul 2021 · 288
Shut Up
Datore Fargo Jul 2021
I take,
scissors,
to my,
tongue.
Only then,
I won’t,
have to,
listen,
to myself,
drone.
I’ll snap,
my fingers,
at the knuckles,
puncture,
eardrums,
still,
I won’t,
shut up.
Jul 2021 · 105
Sponge
Datore Fargo Jul 2021
I’m,
choking,
there’s,
something,
stuck,
in my,
throat.
Most,
likely,
my own,
heart,
hollowed,
is attempting,
an,
escape.
Like a,
sponge,
it soaks,
up all,
damage,
begins to,
crumble.
I breathe,
through,
holes left,
behind,
a past,
rescue,
mission.
A,
lost,
cause.
I just,
want,
to,
breathe,
again.
Jul 2021 · 593
Me
Datore Fargo Jul 2021
Me
There’s this,
demon,
inside of,
me.
It plays,
a facade,
and looks,
just like,
me.
Whispers,
you are,
worthless,
not,
wanted,
so,
pathetic,
me.
I beg,
please,
stop,
just for a,
minute,
for,
me.
I laugh,
the demon,
frowns,
it’s obviously,
been a,
reflection,
just,
Me.
Jul 2021 · 758
Snail
Datore Fargo Jul 2021
Time moves,
so slow.
Like a snail,
on the clock,
nailed to the,
wall.
The slime,
it seeps,
into the gears,
of it all.
Almost,
as if,
we go backwards,
as he inches,
along.
Jun 2021 · 311
Mess
Datore Fargo Jun 2021
I think,
I feel,
sick.
Absolutely,
most definitely,
overly,
nauseous.
I’m going to,
*****,
right in,
my bare,
hands.
The words,
they spill,
all wrong,
staining,
the carpet,
and my own,
white shirt.
It’s obvious,
I’m such,
a mess.
Jun 2021 · 741
Alone
Datore Fargo Jun 2021
I held on,
as you slipped,
right through,
my calloused,
fingertips.
My breath,
got caught,
in the back,
of my,
throat.
I swear,
I saw your,
reflection,
beside mine.
Instead it,
was a shadow,
tricking me,
into believing,
you’re not,
dead.
My head,
spins,
searching for,
you.
Running,
out of,
time,
or is,
the clock,
broken?
Apr 2021 · 158
Hard Candy
Datore Fargo Apr 2021
This love,
melts,
like hard candy,
on the pavement,
in warm sunshine.
And would you,
call it,
sin,
if I watch,
you slumber,
as the morning,
rolls in?
Holding my,
breath,
your scent,
makes me,
spin.
Intoxicated,
only in,
your,
presence.
You are,
sour,
yet,
too sweet,
leaving,
heat,
dancing among,
my tastebuds.
I could,
swallow,
someone,
like you,
whole.
Instead,
I’ll let,
you linger,
a little,
while,
longer.
Apr 2021 · 211
Dear You,
Datore Fargo Apr 2021
Hello again,
it’s been too long.
I apologize,
you see,
somehow I lost,
not just my words,
but also my pen.
Maybe you can,
begin to understand.
Love,
Me.
This is the third poem in the dear you series. This series is based on a series I wrote 10 years ago about the first boy I was ever loved.
Apr 2021 · 175
Summer Love
Datore Fargo Apr 2021
Maybe it’s the,
blue skies,
green fields,
or the dirt roads.
It could be,
white clouds,
cool breezes,
or the smell of,
s’mores over a bonfire.
More than likely,
it’s the music,
playing on the radio,
making me fall,
more in love with you.
Mar 2021 · 206
Sky
Datore Fargo Mar 2021
Sky
I’m made of,
blue skies,
sunshine,
fluffy clouds,
and rainbows.
Yet I tend to rain,
and have clouded eyes,
my touch can be lightening.
How am I,
even nearly enough,
to be able to breathe?
I fear that,
you hate me,
the rest of the sky,
just tolerates.
I’m filled,
to the brim,
with insecurity,
and unnecessary,
anxiety.
A storm,
of emotions,
and uncertainty.
Feb 2021 · 134
Air
Datore Fargo Feb 2021
Air
My heart,
it’s broken.
I feel as though,
all the wind,
has been blown,
out of me.
Becoming empty,
and withered,
into nothing.
Won’t you,
breathe into,
me?
Please,
lend me some,
of your air.
Inflate me,
like a balloon,
and watch me float,
away.
Jan 2021 · 114
Memory
Datore Fargo Jan 2021
I hope,
I never cross,
your mind.
Just forget me,
block off the path,
worn into,
the mentality,
of your brain.
Let me fade,
like the bitter taste,
of sugarless,
lemonade.
Breath easy,
knowing I’m okay,
without your presence,
on a short lived leash.
Jan 2021 · 202
Cheese
Datore Fargo Jan 2021
The moon,
she lies.
Claims to be,
made of,
cheese.
But does not,
pair well,
with wine.
Dec 2020 · 143
Winter Rain
Datore Fargo Dec 2020
There is no point,
in rain,
on a winter morning.
It melts,
the beauty,
in the snow,
and makes,
your eyeliner run.
Freezing over,
roads,
causing you to slip,
and break a nail.
But,
it makes,
cheeks redden,
with the cold.
It causes,
fingertips,
to search for yours,
retrieving their warmth.
I like witnessing,
our hot breath,
blending together.
That’s the point,
in rain,
on a cold winter,
morning.
Dec 2020 · 111
Idiot
Datore Fargo Dec 2020
How ridiculous,
to feel,
out of breath.
When you’re,
barely breathing,
to begin with.
Your mouth,
tastes of metal,
because you were,
stupid.
Bit down,
on your tongue,
too hard.
Who am I,
you ask?
You’re looking,
in a mirror,
*******.
Dec 2020 · 175
Lost
Datore Fargo Dec 2020
I want to lose myself,
surround myself,
with this consuming,
darkness.
Getting smaller,
basically,
nonexistent.
I really don’t,
want to be,
me.
I’ve forgotten,
who,
I might be.
Dec 2020 · 266
Jar
Datore Fargo Dec 2020
Jar
You say,
you’re like,
a bottle.
Filling it,
with emotions,
until it cracks,
and breaks.
I am,
no chance,
in hell,
a bottle.
More like,
a jar,
shoved to,
the brim,
haphazardly.
I may not,
be as fragile,
definitely,
not as,
pretty.
Under pressure,
I may just,
burst,
into pieces.
In the end,
I’ll just leave you,
covered in,
scratches.
Dec 2020 · 110
Bad
Datore Fargo Dec 2020
Bad
I guess,
I’m the bad guy.
Although,
I’m not,
entirely sure,
what I did wrong,
this time.
I’m being,
chastised,
like a child,
who did naughty.
I stare,
at the ground,
twiddle my thumbs,
and bite my tongue.
I’m sorry,
truly,
I apologize,
forgive me.
Is it okay,
are things alright?
Maybe,
it’s just me,
I’m the bad guy,
again this time.
Nov 2020 · 116
Gears
Datore Fargo Nov 2020
The world,
is silent.
But I can hear,
the gears turning,
in your empty,
dull brain.
Is this,
that wake up call,
I was,
put on hold for?
The line,
it’s a dead,
rotary phone.
It turns more,
than you.
Nov 2020 · 286
Float
Datore Fargo Nov 2020
I held,
my breath,
a little too long.
Cheeks turned blue,
as I started,
to float away.
The world,
faded gradually,
beneath my feet.
Was I,
dreaming?
Most likely,
just not,
breathing.
Sep 2020 · 152
Summer
Datore Fargo Sep 2020
I want to live life in a mess,
with splashes in mud puddles,
and petals scattered down the aisle.
Let myself fall,
like rain after a dry spell.
And don’t you just love the smell,
of a summer storm rolling in?
How everything comes to life,
just simply after getting wet.
I yearn for simplicity,
mosquito bites,
and june bugs stuck in hair.
Fireflies caught in jars,
like holding lightning in your hands.
And maybe that’s the way love is,
or at least how it should be,
shocking,
but a way to find home
Sep 2020 · 870
Hear Me
Datore Fargo Sep 2020
Do you think,
you could hear me?
If only,
I screamed just,
a tiny bit,
louder.
Muffled under this,
pillow,
of solitary,
confinement.
I’m simply,
suffocating,
in this room,
muddled in,
silence.
Am I allowed,
to run?
Escape this,
nightmare,
of breathless,
disenchantments?
I’ll scream just,
a tiny bit,
louder.
Sep 2020 · 161
Happy
Datore Fargo Sep 2020
Drowning,
in an empty,
man-made lake.
Choking,
on an object,
never meant,
to be swallowed.
Dancing,
with broken ankles,
tears fall,
I am constructed,
to be beautiful.
Breathing,
with lungs deflated,
like dull,
birthday balloons.
Yet you,
expect me,
to be,
cheerful?
That is nothing,
but another,
hallucination.
Sep 2020 · 2.5k
Moon Dance
Datore Fargo Sep 2020
I watched the moon,
last night,
it danced through,
the tree limbs,
onto my,
bare skin.
I pondered,
if maybe,
you too held,
ballets,
across your chest.
Sep 2020 · 127
Haze
Datore Fargo Sep 2020
Do you ever feel,
that you’re going through life,
like a story in a book?
You keep turning the pages,
appearing to be empty,
they’re filled to the brim.
With not just words,
but wishes,
you just aren’t able,
to read them.
Sep 2020 · 498
Dear You,
Datore Fargo Sep 2020
I watch you sleep,
as the sun wakes up.
You slumber,
as songbirds,
chirp themselves,
awake.
Is it odd,
if I count,
the eyelashes,
that fall on your cheek?
Wishful thinking,
for time to pause,
even just for a moment.
Love,
Me.
This is the second poem of the letter project. I hope it reaches you.
Sep 2020 · 506
Dear You,
Datore Fargo Sep 2020
I could,
send this letter,
but you’d never read it.
Instead,
I will write it,
and sweep it,
beneath the carpet.
Maybe you know,
possibly you don’t,
I could never tell,
even if I wanted.
Why is life,
so unfair,
leaving bitterness,
on my tongue?
I desire,
to know,
the answer.
Love,
Me.
This will be the start to a series of poems written in letter form. The letters will come, they may be often, or not, but they will be written.
Jul 2020 · 118
Salt
Datore Fargo Jul 2020
Why is it,
that I feel as if,
I’m drowning?
When I am,
in fact floating,
above my own head?
My lungs,
filling with cotton,
a soft,
yet abrasive,
sadness.
It holds me,
tightly squeezing,
comfort,
in depression.
I’m choking,
not on tears,
but sea water,
instead.
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