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8h · 33
Corey 8h
Drunk dialing David at four a.m.
Driving around town wondering where I’ve been
Daring to ask me how much I’ve had
Deciding to show me just how bad
Delving into a past long hidden
Drastically accusing me of all my sinning
David you’ve taken me from my grave
I let this trust go that you gave
8h · 58
Corey 8h
The claws of wretched women leave scars on my skin.
Reminders of where I came from and who I’ve been.
Some marks last a life time of wanting to disappear,
but others are proud of their sins.
8h · 16
Corey 8h
When I was younger I liked to explore the woods,
wade through creeks in my bare feet.
A few times I came across deer drinking,
but more often saw the snakes;
sliding off of rocks into the water, towards me.

One time my dog had bitten me on the arm.
More of a warning than an act of aggression,
but for the weeks that came after i kept distance,
worried that he would get angry again;
whip around towards me a sink into my skin.

As I got older, I became intrigued by teeth pressing down. Whether it be a mark of romance,
or a plea for more during an act of ****,
it became less of a fear of mine;
no snakes or dogs trying to hurt me.

Once I learned to subdue my reservations,
I let any and all things bite me.
Mosquitos, spiders, cats, lovers.
But the one that hurt the most was learning
that there are worse things that bite.
8h · 31
Corey 8h
Art has a voice.

My paintings speak when I can write no more,
and I see that their colors, shapes, sizes,
elude to moments of my ****** history.

Like the time I had the light ****** out of me
when I thought I could hold together the broken
pieces of my first relationship; Allison never
helped to clean up the mess.

Or the times my mind has been a flood,
at three in the morning, of dark reds
and blacks shooting out in explosions
against the backs of my eyelids.

I see the hours spent trying to put out little fires
of cynical attitude and distrust that Green
brings out on the canvases.

And the treacherous landscape of emotion
politely covered up by a white
surface, turned grey from far too much
to cover up.

My paintings speak before I know that I have spoken
and I see the colors running down the to the floor
like tears shed over past troubles.

Art is a voice.
Mar 11 · 88
The Child of Knowledge
Corey Mar 11
With eyes closed to the outside world,
far from the bustling cities;
A child sits beneath the canopy of leaves
fingers sprawled out in the grass,
listening to the sounds of nature.

The child, statue-like, held silent and strong,
sat motionless for over an hour.
And when motion finally occurred
it was a slow and stately rise,
a reach into the pocket.

The child brought out a small notebook,
and scrawled in it for a few minutes,
before returning seated, cross-legged.
Statue-like, silent, strong,
the child sat again for a long while.

As the sun went down, the child stood up
and walked the mile back home.
Inside, taking out the notebook,
sat down at a writing desk
facing out the window.

And for a few minutes, carefully,
the child copied what she had written:
“I’m a child of nature, of written words.
A child that knows no truths.
I’m a child of joy and happiness

One who asks for nothing but a use.
I wait patiently for the inspiration,
for the flood of thoughts to come.
For poetry is not an act at all,
but a knowledge of the constant hum.

I am a child of wilderness, of harmony.
A child that listens to the Earth
I write because I’m asked to
by the world that speaks in murmurs
that I then claim as my own.”
Mar 10 · 124
Corey Mar 10
sometimes it’s takes an army
of well-trained women and men
to fight off the slow decline.
other times all it takes is a smile
from a welcoming face.
sometimes it takes weeks
to get through the smallest battle,
lying in the same place.

it can take a couple books
of expertly written poems
to teach me to be fine.
other times all it takes is a word
scrawled into my journal.
sometimes i don’t, but maybe
it would help if i could
be more verbal.

often times it takes a soft blanket
wrapped around me tightly
to calm a frantic mind.
other times all it takes is a walk
through the sunlight.
sometimes i just need a reminder
that’s it’s okay to be small
on the inside.
Mar 7 · 79
Heaven in Hiding
Corey Mar 7
She was a summer day spent
soaking up the sun on a
beach with waves crashing
in the distance, and the sound
the breeze made when it
ruffled through the grass
poking up through the sand.
A smooth glide across the ice
rink on wobbly skates straying
slightly too far from the walls
for comfort but making it
to the other side unharmed.
The lighter that just won’t light
a flame but sparks a pure
white flash quickly and jubilantly.
In the garden from my dreams
she’s was every living thing,
the tallest tree to the smallest plant,
green running far into the
distance in every direction.

She was a crisp autumn evening
under the faint twinkling stars
spiraling around the world faster
than imaginable but stuck,
hanging in the sky and fading
in and out of view.
A long glide across the ocean
waters on a sailboat, flying
around the world with the
strength of the wind.
The book that patiently
waits on the shelf to be
picked up again and again,
only to read when the time is right.
In the midst of a crowd, she was
nothing but unnoticeable,
heaven in hiding,
waiting for the right one to
uncover her mysteries.
Feb 13 · 256
Little Yellow Things
Corey Feb 13
Tops of flowers swaying in the breeze
and reaching rather high.
The sun peaking over the clouds
with a jubilant shout
shooting rays across the sky.

The pop of color in a lemon tree
enough and not too much.
The small hovering butterflies
that will catch your eyes
with their admirable hush.

Bees dancing around in a pollen haze
and clinging to their hives.
The autumn leaves of green ash
atop rolling hills of grass
that litter the ground for miles.

The vibrant joy of a sunny day,
and flap of a birds feathers.
The sight of a Canaries wings,
and other little yellow things,
that make life that much better.
Feb 9 · 172
Corey Feb 9
Each time the wind
blows a soft
whisper through the trees,
floats past petals on flowers,
carries bees, birds, higher,
slides clouds across the sky,
the soul of the world
listens intently,
trying to recall a memory
about to surface, but
just out of reach.
Feb 6 · 415
Corey Feb 6
Yellow is the feeling of laughter;
of coming home to you.
It’s the way the sun shines down on
the things you love—glowing—gold;
the way it makes old look new.
Feb 6 · 200
you—black marble
Corey Feb 6
the surface—dark, immovable
at the core—bright, unusual
but most of all
with rigidity and sturdiness—

all the while—beautiful
Feb 6 · 164
Corey Feb 6
Her hair; a bright
statement of autumn
leaves falling from
trees dying with the bitter cold.
Her eyes; a vibrant
youth met with
a love of old.

Her arms; an ivory
pale and comfortable
kindness that hold with
tightness only love can create.
Her hands; a delicate
touch that once gone,
Feb 6 · 229
Corey Feb 6
Drifting across the sky
and falling into darkness,
the sky turns slowly
and effortlessly,
I watched the miles
traveled by the moon,
watched the stars
glide in solidarity.

I allowed
them to fill the darkness
with bright light that didn’t
radiate, but was contained
within a speck; I watched
as they disappeared
and reappeared as I drifted
in and out of focus.

There were never enough—
a dusting of white dots
like splattered paint from
a brush that had nearly
run dry.

A painting so simple
yet so immaculately detailed
with pictures of heroes and
A puzzle
asking to be seen
through wondering eyes;
long forgotten.

to capture the painting’s true
Feb 6 · 236
Corey Feb 6
while the moon hangs over our heads,
we’ll lie in this make-shift bed
that we made on the roof of my car—
as we whisper so that every star
can hear what we have said
Feb 4 · 425
Corey Feb 4
it was a soft, palpable silence that can only occur in the absence of familiarity. there was plenty of sound, but it all felt—empty.

the babbling of the steam, accompanied by the calm rustle of leaves as a slow wind crept upstream. the humming and singing of the birds high above. the occasional croak of the far off frog, or splash of an unidentified creature returning to the brisk water.

my toes felt the chill as i stepped in myself. grainy water brushed by my feet—abrasive from the debris i knocked up with my heavy step. smooth rocks poking at my soles.

the water sloshed as i dragged my shin through the stream feeling the cold slowly take over my body. venturing deeper than i thought the stream got. the smooth small rocks underneath my feet turned to slippery stones that shifted under my weight, but that i wouldn’t be able to lift.

my toe stubbed into a softer object just as the water had reached my chest. i paused, feeling the rush of water pass by every part of my body. my feet feeling a slow pull to my left, while my torso was being pushed heavily in the same direction.

the softer object was the root of the tree on the opposite side of the stream. i stepped on it, slipping twice before finding my way up. i climbed the labyrinth of roots out of the stream and stood on the sloped trunk. it was not a fallen tree, but contorted. it sloped out above the water.

i crawled up the trunk passing branches that were beginning to turn barren with the colder weather. i sat near the end, high above the water. i watched the water flow past me. i watched a few leaves fall in and get rushed away. i watched the branches around me slightly sway with the wind.

i saw a fawn drinking from the water upstream. i watched it lift its head for a quick look around, then down to continue drinking. it showed no sign of knowing my presence despite how i broke the silence: the splash of an unidentified creature returning to the water—among the singing birds i was surrounded by, the croak of a far off frog, the rustle of leaves with the slow wind, and the babbling stream below.
Jan 21 · 128
Corey Jan 21
The sea lifts me up
and pulls me down
in gentle waves.

A subtle darkness
freckled by the stars above

The paleness of the moon,
of my body, reflects
off the deep greenish-purple

A charming moment of beauty
within the calmness


Dullness to the outside light,
and the inside struggle
of each day

A timeless opening of solitude
in a life that precludes it

Alleviated from the awareness
that I am unworthy
of the world

Specks of comfort and pride
hang in the sky above me


At the crest of a wave;
I find peace for the
briefest of moments

A burst of orange
as I shout in triumph

Tearful bliss; then I’m pulled
back down by the sea,
falling into dark purple

And I arrive as I am,
now sunk in despair
Jan 14 · 170
Yellow Days
Corey Jan 14
blue cathedrals stand in the day;
motionless, elegant, and calling
attention to the suns light

forests of yellow leaves carefully falling,
barren branches being revealed,
freezing with icicles in the night

the dying light of a cornfield
turned flaxen with the cold,
and brown with the mud

come Spring, the blues turn gold
and the branches that remain
turn green with buds

dandelions creep through wide plains
creating more yellow days
and embracing April showers

the bees dance in a haze
collecting pollen for flowers
covering them in the yellow powder
Jan 3 · 437
Golden Moments
Corey Jan 3
The heaviness of the night
is lifted
with the brightness of the sun
shining down on new opportunities

Pouring over the world
ever slowly
and into every crevasse,
like liquid gold;

honey, You deserve it wholly
The golden reflections of
the brightest moments
Jan 1 · 120
Corey Jan 1
Your heart, glass
Your soul, mist
Your eyes I can see through

I listen close
to hear your voice;
only but a whisper

You linger in
the morning light
in love with the pale blues

Your mind, water
Your body, plastic
Your love a solid figure
Dec 2018 · 480
The Passion of Color
Corey Dec 2018
You dip into the sea
long lasting and
intimacy with the

Over time, perhaps you could
recall how difficult it is for others to
absorb a
new spark of love; to
give way to
even the slightest change in hue

Remembering how
every shift in light causes a
different reaction

under different circumstances, your
relationship with the water could be
permitted to grow, and then unite;
little did you know,
even the sea simply reflects your light
Dec 2018 · 157
Son of Mine
Corey Dec 2018
Oh, blessed Gods
Endowed the Earth
Graced with beauty above

Oh, son of man
Oh, son of mine
Taken with radical love

What Sun does warm
What light does shine
To reaches of the summit?

What stars align
What moon reflects
The light that you emit?
Dec 2018 · 162
Naked and Luminous
Corey Dec 2018
Cold; Pale;

Nightly you *****
down to your core
Removing the colors
of your clothes
(a costume

meant for others
to warm to your
frigid ways)
asking for a similar
nakedness from all

Cold; Pale;
Dec 2018 · 279
Corey Dec 2018
In stark starlessness
you crawl your way
from dusk to dawn
lingering in the morning blues.

Your own hues
transform from warm
to cool, arriving
just before white.

And your light,
provided by your lover
shines down as if your own;
as if you were alone.
Dec 2018 · 133
Suns and Moons
Corey Dec 2018
-There are Suns and there are Moons-

There are Suns that are joy
They shine light on the most beautiful things
to watch and help them flourish.
They awaken love in hearts,
passion in minds,
and ask for nothing in return.

There are Moons that are beauty
They themselves are the most beautiful beings,
but they cannot see or sense this.
They instill meditative thoughts,
contemplative nights,
and impassioned yearn.

There are Suns that are fury
They burn with anger and detestation
but are nothing more than a stone.
They bring harm to others,
pain to worlds,
and deceive all they can.

There are Moons that are melancholy
They hide themselves in darkness
and show only what must be shown.
They leave longing in lovers,
heaviness in words,
and numbness in hands.
Dec 2018 · 236
Corey Dec 2018
i’m no good at being happy
Dec 2018 · 64
Even at my worst
Corey Dec 2018
Even when I’m down on myself
when I’m hurting more than ever
and avoiding you at all costs,
you are there

Even during my happiest moments
when I don’t think I need you anymore
and leave you for someone else
you are there

Even after I’ve hurt you
countless, countless times,
and continue to do it over and over again
you are there.

you will always support me
take care of me
love me

I’ll never understand how I’ve come to deserve you
Or why I allow myself to continually hurt you
I couldn’t finish this poem, and maybe that’s part of the problem.
Dec 2018 · 120
Corey Dec 2018
i will always love you,
but i don’t know if it would work out,
and i’m not ready to find out if it doesn’t
Nov 2018 · 380
Learning, Loving, Growing
Corey Nov 2018
Remember the days of passing notes in the hallway with a nervous smile
The days of gift giving when you had no money to buy anything worthwhile
The days where holding hands was a big deal and people asked questions behind your back

Remember the awkward dances that tried too hard to be ******
The kisses that were forced, uncomfortable, and unsure right from the start
The days when you snuck out of your house in the middle of the night and found a secluded spot

Remember the dinners you struggled through, trying to talk about yourself
The excuses you came up with to get out of everything
The struggle to pin things down

Remember the discomfort you felt trying new things that didn't quite make sense yet
The anxiety of when to first say "I love you"
The pressure to do more

Remember the letting go of maturity that comes with anything new and exciting
The comfort in the knowledge of being true to yourself
The ability to not hide behind some façade you've created to please others

Remember the hopelessness of diving head first into the deep end of the pool
The sudden relaxation that comes with acceptance
The pain of drowning in the choppy waters that you helped to create

Remember the joy that comes with realizing that you don't owe anybody anything
The slow release of tension as you ease into new and terrifying territories
The comfort within yourself that is regained with each new day

Remember all of these things as you love

Learn from them

Grow from them
an open letter to myself
Nov 2018 · 120
A Welcome Respite
Corey Nov 2018
If I could spend every summer night outside,
in the grass or on the roof of my car, I would.
The way the air lingers is magical.
I never want to leave it.

But there's something about a winter night–
the haze of the faint orange glow–
when it arrives, it's so welcome.
It's a kind of quiet that summer nights don't have.

The silent descent of snow.
Nov 2018 · 76
Corey Nov 2018
An evening sitting up against the wall,
you sprawled out, resting on my legs,
while we talk about music, books, tea.

An evening spent lying on your thighs,
you asking me question after question,
making jokes and laughing over nothing.
Nov 2018 · 252
Corey Nov 2018
I spent the day in acknowledgement of my knees: buckling under the weight of my tired body and locking in an attempt to keep myself up through brute force and rigidity.
Nov 2018 · 50
Corey Nov 2018
I spent the day in acknowledgement of my eyes: the pressure they feel from holding back miles of water that is constantly pushing its way out through cracks and corners.
Nov 2018 · 50
Corey Nov 2018
I spent the day in acknowledgement of my shoulders: the weight of my sadness that they hold, forcing them out of a natural position and into one of misuse and pain.
Nov 2018 · 97
Corey Nov 2018
Pulled from falling apart
after searching for life,
Start drawing gridlines
that help achieve focus on
the simple things that make
life beautiful:
laughter and smiles,
love and gratitude,
the product of its kind
and unique approach.

Receive enthusiastic praise
from all over the world.
Spend more time with
family and friends
and less time, well, trying.
The mission is simple:
inspire a life that is
full of laughter and smiles.
Little moments matter
on your journey.

The result of a blackout poem I did on the inside introduction of my new planner.
Nov 2018 · 189
Corey Nov 2018
Here is to old, eternal love
to love undone
to love lost
and to new love
Nov 2018 · 164
Corey Nov 2018
Infinity is a blessing
Oct 2018 · 113
Corey Oct 2018
You have shown me the stars I thought had long died
The flowers I thought would not grown
The sun that will always shine
The rivers that will always flow

A sky that doesn’t beg me
to run away from my fear
But an ocean that I’m lost in
surrounded by those who care
Corey Oct 2018
Here is a space to write things
bound by deep yellow covers

With bees crawling around
on a drawn on honeycomb

A journal you can hold
and a space to be discovered

Allow the words within
to become something on their own

Imagine the ecstatic joy
that fills the pages lines

Pages being filled
with your passionate creation

Imagine the subtle sadness
that seeps from the covers design

Here is a space to write things
bound by your imagination
Corey Oct 2018
one day. one day it will all be better. you know what they say: it’ll all be okay in the end. if it’s not okay, than it’s not the end

Darkness seeps from the walls
A low rumble heard from afar
Constant, and never ending
As the darkness pools on the floor

This deep, dark sadness,
the debilitating pain,
the absence of a
will to move

Darkness creeps up my skin
A low mumble I try to speak
Constant, and never head
As the darkness begins to drown me

This deep, dark sadness
the debilitating pain,
the weight of my head
resting in my hands

Darkness eats at my thoughts
A low grumble of displeasure
Constant, and never ceasing
As the darkness laughs at my pain

This deep, dark sadness
the debilitating pain,
leaves me waiting to arrive
at eternity’s gate
Oct 2018 · 121
Corey Oct 2018
I am a single thread from floor to ceiling.
Taut enough that you could pluck
a tone out of me, but so taut that
if you pluck too hard, I’ll snap;
fall to the ground and hang from the ceiling.
Sep 2018 · 214
The Grace of the Stars
Corey Sep 2018
We sat watching the bright lights
burst and fade away,
hearing the pops and rumbles
that made me long for yet another
far-off, but not out of reach,
summer thunderstorm

We leaned back, eyes cast upward
at the tree line of blinking fireflies,
and got comfortable on yet another
rigid sitting spot that we had
yet to notice as a trend that
we would become so fond of

We were sheltered by the sky
we stared at, through the darkness,
full of stars that showed us that
grace could be held so tenderly
inside a complexity we would never
be able to understand
Sep 2018 · 104
Corey Sep 2018
The shape of your breath as you inhale draws me inward. Hesitantly, I allow my being to float into existence. Before it was too dense to exist. But the shape of your breath as you exhale pulls apart my stubborn molecules

and I find myself afloat in existence.
Aug 2018 · 449
Corey Aug 2018
My ribs used to creak with every inhale as I stood, face in the water, watching it stream down my face and swirl down the drain.
My body used to slump with every exhale as I stood, half falling downward, wishing I were lying on the floor, crying.
My arms used to stay crossed with every breath as I stood, shivering, waiting for the cold water to drown my pain.
Aug 2018 · 186
Corey Aug 2018
The stained pavement,
slight containment,
and broken statements
leave me complacent
Corey Aug 2018
I write you poems
when it’s dark outside
because my mind simply
can’t handle the light

I write you poems
that I recite in my bed
when I can not sleep at night
Aug 2018 · 141
Corey Aug 2018
Who loves who more
is a senseless argument
that leaves much to be desired

It makes ones love
feel weak or less valid
than what seems to be required

Down to the core
love is so similar
that I don’t think we should contend

I do not love
anymore than you do
but also not any less than
Aug 2018 · 163
Corey Aug 2018
You call me many names,
but I don’t call you any back.
I worry that the wrong word
or slightest touch will send you spiraling.

So call me a coward,
but I’m too scared to breathe.
Jul 2018 · 688
Simply Be
Corey Jul 2018
You don’t need to do anything to be loved.

When you’re young you learn how to do a lot of new things like how to ride a bike, or how to swim. Some of them are difficult at first but then they get easier. Some of these things come to you naturally. You excel at them and learn how to get better.

You are the latter. Loving you is easy. Not the type of easy where it’s quick to lose interest, but the type where I’m surprised so many times throughout the day by just how easy you make it on me. I expect the worst and you give me the opposite. You continually show me that loving doesn’t have to be an uphill battle, but can simply be.
Corey Jul 2018
I stretched myself thin so that I could be with you every day. It was thrilling to spend so much time with you, to lie about it, and to go nowhere with you. We could hike hours up mountains, on trails, to cliffs, and stumble over roots in the ground until we could finally see the view.

For a while I thought of repressing this because I knew the pain would be great. But the closer we got the more I struggled to keep both myself and you from stumbling. It didn’t matter what we said or did, it all felt different. We could drive hours, to the ends of roads without saying a word, and still, it was magical.

It was truly terrifying to allow such a fast growth. After all I’d been through, telling myself not to let that happen, you came in and tore down walls. We could go to the ends of the earth, where the road stops on a cliff, and still we would dance on the edge.
Jul 2018 · 584
Tender Voice
Corey Jul 2018
I allowed you,
    you consumed me
Your many features
    leave me subdued

Like your long hair,
    lush and gleaming
Or the lightest touch
    only you produce

Your freckled face,
    flush and dimpled
The perfect smile
   that melts my own

Your tender voice,
    playful giggle,
That I still hear
    when I’m alone
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