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Alex Apples Apr 2013
It stuck in my throat like glue
the first time that I said it back to you.
It buzzed like cables being rewired
crackled air as if a gunshot had been fired.
My gut swirled acidic. What comes next?
What promises might settle in the subtext?
What does it take for me to say it, too?
Thaw out my heart and cry out, "I love you."
You see, the problem is...I already do
but I fear someday that I'll be breaking you

just moments before your love can break me through.
Alex Apples May 2013
You rub your fingertip
in a circle the size of a dime
on my spine
after the curtains ceased to move
I chortle
like a babe
swaddled in happiness
being with you
in the sunlight
and dust motes
and hushed notes
is safe and tranquil and flushed
with joy
and boy
being your girl
is sun-broken and mild
for this mustang spirit
used to wand'ring in the wild
I hold you tightly to me
and hope you see
that all I ever want to do
is love you
if you let me.
Alex Apples Feb 2010
***** dishes piled peripherally
Melting muscles begging to be built
Education egging me on evilly
Facebook friends warning I may wilt
Clothes choking roomish rubble
Coldhearted clocks click callously
Traffic tickets to trouble
Prodding for payment perniciously
Copyright (c) 2010 Alex Newman
Alex Apples Aug 2013
As soon as the alarm explodes,
the silence after seems spoiled.
Quiet slips into one ear, through the tube in my skull, and out the other side -
a precipitous flow of energy.
Drowned in the avalanche of thought -
all of it tumbles like a cage of numbered Bingo *****
clattering against the bars as my subconscious turns the handle.

            S t o p. I t.

I just want to be
for just a moment.
I just want to hear
your breath falling
slipping into one ear, through the vortex, and out the other side
smoothing the roiling sea like a summer wind
sending whispered shudders
through my neurons
silencing the cacophony
as it flows
      and fades
            into quiet.
Alex Apples Feb 2010
You don't know
What a genius I am
Pontificating stuffed shirt
At the head of the classroom
With your precious red ink
And credentialed soul
Do you bleed as I do?
Do you dream in words
So painfully beautiful
You marvel at belonging to them?
You don't know
Who I am or will be
Call it egotism or delusion
But behind this meek acceptance
Of your measures and jibes
My pride roils like lava
For once, I will not speak my mind
I must show you instead
And show you, I shall
Alex Apples Feb 2010
Drunken infatuation, leave away
Blurring the vision of reasonable men
Weakens knees, causes thought to stray
Clinging dreams that only “should have been”
Stirs in healthy folk a gutty knot
Ties the tongue or looses it by turn
Makes all common sense appear forgot
Chills the bones and leaves the face to burn
No cousin to true love, yet seems to me
Infatuation, more action does decree
Alex Apples Jun 2013
Dream I
We are underneath a treehouse.
He pulls the cord
to raise the platform on which we stand
and I splinter my hands
gripping cedar as we swing against gravity
stomach lurching in the heights.
He chortles
as I beg to be let down again.

Dream II
We are in bed,
yet I feel lonelier than if he were
a million miles away, or under another's sheets
and I grimace
as he tells me not to speak -
that my voice annoys him
even when my whispers, my caresses
are merely my love incarnate.

Dream III
We are in a bar without walls.
He smiles, dances on the bar top
backlit by a blue mirror and bottles
with a dark-haired wisp of a girl in white
and she isn't me.
No, I was unexpected.
I say hello and his smile disappears.
This observation spears my guts, as
he pretends not to hear.
I order a drink and pretend I never tried.

Dream IV
He leaps and gestures and goads,
poking fun and inspiring deepest belly laughs
and I should be blissful
but he flits from table to table
always passing mine.
Saving his jokes and witticisms
though I can think of a billion replies
better than everyone else's.
I turn to our mutual friend
who shrugs and lets it slide
saying this happens all the time.
Apparently, I am an audience
now considered too cheap
to buy.

I Wake...*

The television flickers.
His heads lolls onto my shoulder
and his longshank of a leg twitches.
I want to weep or *****, so
I move and
his arm tightens around me.
I want to shake him, when
his lips that are even softer, pinker than mine
uplift at the edge, and
part to whisper,

Each night I fear I have lost him forever
        and each day I wake to find he loves me still.

What will it take to convince me in the dark
        of what I, in the daylight, know by heart?
I've been plagued by these dreams - I wonder if the only way to banish them is to write about them and remove their power.

Thank you for reading.
Alex Apples Jul 2010
Oh god,
don't look around
Sip a little more
watermelon and *****
now tequila
injecting guts
with too many words
and too much courage
to catch a ***** slap
from old friend-emies
"Jealousy doesn't
become you."
A grin, another shot,
a wave for the check
neither would fake *****."
Alex Apples Mar 2010
Out has slipped away my breathWith a Love that defies deathBanishing the worried qualmsEnfolds the soul in utter calmGod of Heaven and this earthWho gives me life and second birth
Alex Apples May 2013
You compared falling in love with me to
boiling a frog.
Unromantic, yet...

it made me love you
all the more.
Alex Apples Nov 2013
On days like today
this is all I have to say...

Tell me...have you ever felt this way?
Alex Apples Jun 2013
open your eyes
I'll be afraid
you'll fade away
fall asleep
and I will be
simply a dream
you once had
Alex Apples Jun 2013
Listen, my children, and
clear the cedar smoke from your ears,
the firelight from your eyes.
Lean back and gaze
Gaze into the darkness
until you may better see the stars.
For it is in the stars
that you may catch his shape
and when you are bent and crippled
(like I am now)
know him as I foretold his coming.
And I will tell you of what lies beneath
his white shell
in terms you will know and understand.

He is thunder.
The downpour breaks
under the weight of his voice.

He is the tsunami.
The white horses crash
under the whip in his arm.

He is the quake.
The tremor that ripples
under the pound of his boot heel.

He is the hunter.
The predator that vows
under the sheep hide you need not fear.

He is Modern Man.
The bloodtide that comes
under the guise of knowledge.

He will take our ancient earth
and call it "New World"
yet seek to make it like his old one.

He will make slaves
of man and beast.

**** and eat more than
his stomach needs.

****** his brother
for sport or pride or money.

He will promise much
and deliver only lies.

He will, with good intent,
   bring you gifts

He will, without a thought,
   take your "gifts"

You do not understand these things yet, my children.
But someday you will.
Alex Apples Feb 2010
Morning's breathlessness
Hanging with wint'ry glow
Speeding my pulse
Waking up my skin
Pale blue arc of gleaming sky
Against a white sun
Hurts the eyes
Washes out the face
Dawn came
Earlier to the horizon
To warm the soul
The dream of day
Alex Apples Feb 2010
Showers of droplets
Break in sparks
On moonlit glass
Their wintery shine
Mirrored to a gaze
Spears of ice
Melting in the night
Trailing windows
With silver beads
(c) 2010 Alex Newman
Alex Apples Aug 2010
He met her at a bar
in San Pellegrino
Yeah, like the water
but there was more wine
than water there

She was flicking a guitar
that she called "Bambino"
Her papa taught her
but she wasn't the kind
so easy to share

They slept inside his car
outside an old casino
The nights were hotter
than he'd ever find

He said she'd be a star
but what the hell did he know?
**** gypsy daughter
broke into his mind
then left him there

She could only go so far
on his euros incognito
The polizia caught her
the guitar left behind
she'd tied him to a chair

She'd emptied out his jar
and his last good cigarillo
Shouldn't a brought her
she's serving time
Bambino in his care

He met her in a bar
in San Pellegrino
He said she'd be a star
what the hell did he know?
Alex Apples Apr 2013
Mommy, can I keep him?

With his warm, dark eyes
and jet black whiskers
and wide, impish grin.

Mommy, can I keep him?

With his leaping limbs
and cuddling frame
and thudding heart.

Mommy, can I keep him?

With his barking laugh
and knack for love
and gentle kisses.

Mommy...I want to keep him, but don't know if I can.

Do you think I will make him happy?
Do you think he will want to stay?
Am I strong and smart enough?
Now that I'm grown up?
Should I keep him?
Dare I even try?

can I?
Alex Apples Mar 2010
The man desiring
Becomes the beast
Enslaven'd only
By what he allows
Himself to need
Alex Apples Apr 2013
The creases in her hands
were ironed once
and iron-wrought
clutched like twin vises
blotched the hue of bleach
as she gripped the puppet’s strings
reigned them up
and made the beast dance

Wind shook the steel shell
bellowed at its underbelly
braced her back to leather straps
cringed her brow
over a sky-blue glare
crackling with lightning
until the basilisk beneath moaned
then settled in the stars

The stars hang higher from the patio
the furrow of the brow
has softened
accompanied by new furrows
as she gazes up
the shards of lightning
long ago dimmed to a pearly gleam
the hands that tamed the beast
now shake
under the weight of a glass of rosé

She has no say
nor have I
but I will recall someday
as she does now
the days when
the sky was her oyster
the engines her chariot
and the cane
mere misty imagination
To be published by Tahoma West Literary Arts Magazine in Spring 2013
Alex Apples Mar 2013
Heat pulses inside an eggshell of white glass
my feelers undulating on its surface
scalding incandescence singes my digits
yet I return to kiss the light
lover of fire
yet soaring in bliss and
in pain.

O! what elated flame
yet tragic trend
to adore that which
will **** you in the end.
Alex Apples Nov 2013
Imagine your mind
as a corkscrew
shiny and smooth and silver
and sharp at one end
to open multitudes
to unlock bottles of sweet red wine
and pour it out
for all to taste
to drink wonders deeply
and inhale aromas
but instead you
until the cork crumbles
around you and
mildewy mulch
falls into the bottle
spoils the wine
with bitter silt.

It tastes like ash now.
on the ground.

Corkscrew mind,
how far you fell
how much you dismembered
how wasted your
sharp, yet silken self.
Alex Apples Jul 2013
I've never met anyone like you before
Anyone so clear, so simple, uncomplicated
Black rolled-up sleeves bare your heart
Pink lips that trip over incalculable risk

You are a cosmic irregularity
A consummate anomaly
A grammatical inconsistency
A mathematical improbability

The type that always knows what it wants
And that, you say, is me.

I've never met anyone like you before
I don't know if I ever will again
I didn't know what I wanted
Now I know

It's you.
Alex Apples Mar 2010
I hate you

I told you

I loved you
Act so
Alex Apples Mar 2010
I want to help
But I really must dash
They're waiting for me
In the conference room
If I had the time
The skill, the cash
I would assist you, really
But my bus leaves soon

I wish you the best
But I can't stay too long
And isn't it the thought
That counts anyway?
Important matters await
And I'm just not that strong
Things, other than you
Need fixing today

I hate to be a coward
But I'm just human, you know?
And only can do so much
If you knew my life
You'd understand I must go
Please, don't stare at me such

I'm sorry I cannot be what you ask
I'm sorry to lie - but I really must dash
Alex Apples Feb 2010
I have always been in love with you
Though I've never seen your face
Rivered streets and thoroughfares
Cathedrals and marble shining glaze
Burgundy, sunsetted copper walls
Slanted clay tiles that shine like flame
Thick lushes of emerald'ed halls
Weaving into arcs of grape'd frame
Vineyards pouring over daykissed hill
Wine as red as dye and rich as gold
Flesh of bread, warm, at corners spill
Into the walks where it is sold
Dear Italy, my love, you torment me
Slipping your fingers 'round my heart
And all I have is pictures yet to be
And hope that we shall not long be apart
Copyright (c) 2009 Alex Newman
Alex Apples Aug 2013
Your arms slung
under my head and knees, and
though you had cleaned the gutters all day
and mowed the lawn
and dusted the webs from the shed, you
raised me from the undignified
slump on the couch
though you were tired
and carried me to my bed.

I was here once before.
Carried by a different man's arms.
I was smaller then.
My room scattered in Lego pieces
and plastic dinosaurs
now houses mountains of clothes and books
like Smaug piled his gold.

I was here once before,
but he is too old now to carry me
and I, too tall.
But you remind me of him.
You are young and strong enough
to lift me as he once did.

Perhaps, someday, he will see
and thank you for doing what he
no longer can.

tears sting my eyes
as I realize
I have never been, nor will I ever be
strong enough to carry him
as you now carry me.
Alex Apples Jul 2010
tracing our names in the sugar spilt
melts to the bar in sticky rings
stomach weighed with *** and guilt
heart in pieces and scorpion stings
the door swings
desert wind beckons
my stool erodes
am I falling?

fingers catch like grappling hooks
against the gravity, intoxication
I feel these *******’ ***** looks
burns the scalp, humiliation
the door shudders
night wind soothes
my knees buckle
I’m falling

tongues of blood lick the night
a passionate display of heat
embarrassing embrace of light
pushing this lump of flint to beat
the door locks
sand swallows prints
I’ve learned from
Alex Apples Mar 2010
I am a reflection of the Great
The One who was
Before anything else came to be
One who is the essence of Good
Yet I cannot help but see
How if I reflect Him
How much more does He also
Correspond to my humanity?
For is it not so
That I am human
Only because He made me to be so
And that my humanness
Was, as He said, the image of Himself?
So, in a sense, God is more human
Excepting the failings,
Than even I am
His sorrows are deeper and sharper
His laughter is more radiant
More joyful and abundant
His pain so intense
That my eyes squeeze shut
Merely to contemplate its acuity
If I love beauty and warmth
How much more does He love it?
If I am jealous for those I adore
How much more His jealousy for me?
If I wish to be great and purposed
How much stronger
His good wishes for me?
If I feel alone and lost
How much more alone does He feel
When I seek not to be with Him?
I serve a GodWho cries over me
Who rejoices over me
Who loves fiercely
In a suddenness it springs in me
The idea 
That I am man
Only because He first
Was God
Alex Apples Feb 2013
I'm hungry
hungry for air

I kiss you
and surface from deep water

a ragged inhale
sputtering exhale


for the first time
in five whole lung-burning minutes

if minutes were years.
Alex Apples May 2013
A manual, if you will, on
How to Break a Heart.

#1 - Forget
Forget the person
you are speaking to
has a history and a soul.

Forget they might
go home alone
and drink tonight.

Forget they may
have a dying mother
or sister
or friend.

Forget they may
be dying a little

Forget they may
have tried to die
already once before.

Forget they may
look into your eyes
and see their only hope.

Do not project - that is most detrimental.

Forget the parts
of them that remind you
of you.

This is key.

2) Lie
Lie about your dreams.
Enhance nobility.
Emphasize similarity.

Lie about your interests.
Fake your level of enthuse.
Make lukewarm likes
into fiery hot loves.

Lie about your heart.
If it's been broken, don't say.
If it's cold and hard, omit.

Lie about the person.
Make yourself sound
much more certain
than you actually are.

Lie to yourself.
Make yourself believe
every single lie.

Now pay close attention.

3) Awaken
Awaken to the reality
of what you have done,
that you have gone too far.

Awaken to the next morning
lying against the heartbreak-ee.
Or even many
many mornings later.

Later is even better here.

Awaken to the moment
you realize they love you
and think you do, too.

Awaken to their tearful
confessions and soul-baring

Awaken to your own lie
and fear that you
have been caught.

Please listen carefully. You are near success.

4) Disappear
Disappear as quickly as
a dawn vapor
or a cigarette plume.

Disappear without a word.
Run as fast as you can.
Say nothing.

No answer is even better here.

when things are at their best
and they will ache
and strings left undone
will drive them crazy.

Disappear and let them
believe it was their doing,
their deficiency.

And, finally...

5) Repeat.

You have successfully learned
How to Break a Heart.
Alex Apples Jul 2013
He shot Max.
My God. He shot Max.

Blood sprayed on the streets
at the uniform's feet.

They shot Kirby.
Oh Lord. They shot Kirby.

Bullet holes punch his flesh.
Pain radiates fresh.

She shot Kiki.
F**k me. She shot Kiki.

Inside her own fence?
You call that self-defense?

So man's best friend
comes to an end.
For those of you who have seen the outrageous video of a cop killing a man's dog. This article highlights the lack of competency of police with canines that has led to senseless reactions for other people's beloved pets.
Alex Apples Mar 2013
I want to swallow up my soul
until its deep inside where no one can find it
I want to dig a bottomless hole
to bury this beating lump where no one can mine it
I want to carve away my brain
until all that's left is simply survival and no more
I want to squeeze out all the pain
to drink it down and **** it on the floor

Curl up
Fade out
End scene
Alex Apples Jul 2013
French music
espresso swirls in my Chai
the rumble of conversation
clink of glass and silver
lean in to the chair back
admiring the view of a blank page
paper has poetic potential

when a voice crackles
severing my reverie
shredding my illusion
my carefully crafted imaginarium
I lean forward and type, suddenly
cringing, squinting, now
conscious of the fluorescent light
overhead and worker bees
buzzing in an office next to mine

my cup is made of paper
my music on a radio
my silver and glass only
kindly ambient noise
recorded by some lucky chap
really reclining
in a cafe somewhere
where they grind the coffee beans
fresh behind the counter

sad to think
my desk is no magic carpet
so much for a memory
of a Paris cafe
Alex Apples Feb 2010
There was a once upon a time
When this day brought trembling
And swayed my self with tears
The sight of velvet petals splashed
In scarlet flutters
Made my lower lip quiver
Crudely cobbled rhymes
Pricked the corners of my nose

And I hardened my eyes
Turning away, shouldering
The world and denying any feeling
Denouncing love
All the while, your halo was choking
Your absence was a presence
Like a tumor

But a year's distance
Has reawakened my adoration
For the taste of spring
And affection for roses
Realization that I cannot sink
When I'm holding others up
Focusing lenses on pain worse than mine
Releases my love
My Valentine
To the world
Alex Apples Apr 2014
I'm told foie gras will change my life.
That it's savory, exemplary
to die for.

Someone already did that.
A gavage in his throat...
plumped, fed,
suffocated by
his own fat
like an inflating noose
on an unwitting neck.

Ironic also that
his flesh inflates my girth
and feeds my gluttony.

"Stupid things...
don't even know they're dying."
Dying indeed.
A slow and painful death.
And how deserving of it, yes.
Stupid things.
Too stupid to recognize their plight.
After all, don't the stupid
deserve their fate?

Ironic how - to this day -
we still think we're so much
more evolved than
our forebears.

Evolution aside,
The Divine Rights of the Food Chain
still stand.

I do not understand it,
therefore it is less intelligent than I,
therefore I have the right to torture it.

I made it,
therefore it cannot live without me,
therefore I have the right to ruin it.

I own it,
therefore it is mine,
therefore I have the right to **** it.

Our strength grants us Divine Right, indeed.
May the kingdom prosper under our boots and be grateful, for
history has proven us such gracious and kind masters, after all.

Are we not?
Alex Apples Feb 2010
Betrayal of a nation
By its own generations
Pageantry that slackens
Sliding into morbidity
Obesity of the spirit
Swells of needless waste
In the name of wealth
Oozing farce
Finger puppets
Only to be played
Imagined wars, sciences
A lavishness blithely unaware
Of its inner decay
Sweet taste of poison
Thus falls Babylon
By her own hand
Alex Apples Oct 2013
When I went to bed I was 17 –
plumes of raven hair and cigarette smoke
wreathed my head and I coughed,
tamping the embered end before kissing
him goodnight -
soldier’s cap a tilt to one side
muscled chin blemished by lipstick
as the screen door flags between us, and
summer makes its last sweet
serenade to the dancing aspens
while momma chided my lackadaisical
entrance and
fairy flight to bed.

At ten o clock I wake now
the aspens stand still, bare, black.
I look down to see
withered fingers writhing in tubes,
ugly blue veins, a strange
woman sponging my lady parts,
calling me “sweetie” like I was a child.
I scream for momma,
I look for him -
my love, my soldier -
starved for familiar faces, as
panic ropes its tendoned grip
through my ribcage, around my trapped
spasming-butterfly heart.

What have you done to me?
Strangers, monsters, *******.
I words come out, but
squeals and shrieks like a strangling
rabbit, my neck caught in a wire.
What’s wrong with me?
Where are you, my soldier?
Where are you, momma?
Why are they keeping me from you?

You see…when I went to bed I was 17.
When I woke,
I was on my deathbed.

It’s not fair, momma.
If I could do it over, I...
I never would have left him
on the porch, I
never would have passed you
in the kitchen, I
never would have slept
not one hour
not one **** minute
would I have willingly succumbed to
slumber with the faint hush of
summer’s overtures
to the blank slate of
                               a white,
Alex Apples May 2014
dagger stilettos sever
the head off a clove cigarette
fallen from blushing plump lips
in a sharp, slightly stubbled face

so you hate him
because that's what we, humans,

golden ankles shine
from under a cloud of black
a flash of lightning blue in her gaze
intensity that frightens you

so you hate her
because that's what we, humans,

we spout that God is love
God is good
and perfect
and outside of time
not human

yet somehow
the Creator of countless suns
and sons
who shaped them in the womb
hates what he made

my bloodied, beautiful God
who made water into sweet red wine
who let ****** rub oil on his head
who creates, forgives, loves
does not despise anyone

humans do that

how convenient
to somehow believe it true that
God hates the same people
as you
Alex Apples Jun 2013
I want to grow young with you
Watch superhero movies when
Our hairs turn silver blue

I want you to sing silly songs
Snort with laughter at my accents
When the days get long

I want to color in books with you
Read aloud our favorite tales
When the moon is full and new

I want to be your partner-in-crime
Canes tapping in synchronicity
When it's adventuring time

I want us to skydive, soar, be bold
so you and I will be growing young
long after our children have grown old
Alex Apples Jun 2014
breaking ice in my mineral water
lime spritzing the air and
dripping down my fingertips
as i twist it and sip its tang
hot sunlight radiating on my
body until the sweat glistens
at even the slightest movement
the rustle of well-worn pages
his sharp Adam's apple
rolls ever so slightly with a swallow
of the sparkling glass
the bubbles, like tiny diamonds
the hiss of the sprinkler next door
and the squealing chortles
of the neighbor kids running in it
chocolate melting on my tongue
chair squeaking when I recline

Happy is as happy does, but
I'm thankful happy's mine.
Alex Apples Jun 2013
Your love is not a hurricane
It is not an earthquake
It is a sweet, sweet salve
to an old heartbreak

Your love is not lightning
It is not a tidal wave
It is a deep, deep breath
at the end of a long, hard day

Your love is not a fever
It's not an addiction
It is not my nicotine
Novocaine or

Your love is not suspenseful
sugar cane saccharine or

Every love before you has been
a frantic, careful dance of
but not too close
but not too honest

Yet you
strange you
can look at me from across a room or
across a tabletop and
there is wonderment,
but no wondering
but no pondering

Defined by choice
not whim

We always crave the love
that is our
sugar cane
to sap away
our pain

But what about the love
that simply is?

Is that what makes it real?
Is that what makes love
What if we embrace what we need
instead of what we want?

To forge our way towards happiness
and disregard any distractions
that stand in our path?

What if we chose to every day
trade the roller-coaster romances
for the life-long loves?
Alex Apples May 2013
As for me, I favor fire
in its various incarnations
its many supple siren bodies
its many sultry, scorching fingers
sensually curling
dancing for me like a woman
stirring perspiration
warming my belly

I inhale its ashy breath
as it explodes in an ******
of light and dark
yellow and black
blood orange and ink
scalding, searing
shaping, sizzling
starving, swirling

hissing like a serpent
cackling as it devours
hungering and growling
reaching, desirous
for anything in its path
ravenously sinking teeth
into paper edges
licking bark of trees
******* the air and sap
like marrow
and leaving behind only dust

insatiable demon
that feeds on flesh
irresistible angel
that warms the soul
how would that I
could match the inferno
of your white-hot gaze!
evolve your overwhelming
unquenchable thirst for life
the ability to destroy
and to forge.

So as for me, I say at last,
I favor fire.
Alex Apples Mar 2010
All things – all – must end
Not just good, but bad as well
So here I am swallowing hope
To cure my belly’s new personal hell
For poems have reduced to mere points
And the poets who paint them just pawns
Compelled to take drags of this joint
For a prayer that our work carries on
Neighborhoods turn into ghettos
Victorian houses accosted by ramblers
Starving artists must don their stilettos
And we stay because we’re all gamblers
Alex Apples May 2013
I have no qualm with Christ,
insists the common man or woman,
My thorn lies with "Christians."*

Interesting. It makes me think.
Perhaps there is a difference, then
between "Christian" and "follower."

One can deride a "member"
as one chortles at an arrogant child
for presiding over a tree house.

His father planted the tree
and his father nailed the boards to it
yet the child excludes as he sees fit.

One cannot demean a "follower"
for the follower acts the part of his father
and invites the other children in.

He learns their names and smiles
and shares his sandwich and cookies
with the *****, hungry faces.

So many among us will
step forward and throw the first stone
at the stain glass of a church

Yet who among you would
pluck that same stone and hurl it
at the face of Christ himself?
Alex Apples Jun 2013
Would that I could break my body from my chest
crack and spread the bones between my *******
release the fluttering muscle tied within
a bird bashing skull against my cage of sin.

Would that I could unzip my flesh, step outside
to finally inhale, exhale without such tightened hide
that keeps my anxious breaths bound among
the shrinking corded confines of my lungs.

Would that I could peel back my ribs and skin
at the sternum to set free the beast within
unfetter the spirit that cares so much it aches
from all the petty failures for which it breaks.

Would that I could scream and rip my hair
as though slicing to ribbons each worry, every care.
Would that I could - would I? I know not.
I would just as soon have all loves be forgot.
Alex Apples Feb 2010
I hate writing about feelings
Or abstracts rather
Give me concrete
Give me senses and vision
Metaphoricals, actions
Comparatives speak louder
Instead of mewling about love
Or dreaming or fear
My preference is nausea
Aching, touching
Colors, textures, responses
Words that put pain to the thing
Not the thing itself
The impression of the thing
The breathing
The bleeding
Not the creature
Not merely saying it is alive
For you aren't obliged
To believe me
If I don't believe it myself
Alex Apples Apr 2013
Once, I thought my bones were made of marble
and bullets would sing through the air, press my flesh and fall
clinking to my iron-cast feet.

Once, I believed my mind was an untouchable machine
that thundered like a herd of wild horses, a hive of bees, a freight train
firing synapses in record time.

Once, I felt my choices made me something more than human
not like the mass of one-dimensional thinkers who wrung their pretty hands
fretting over day-to-day dramatics.

Once, I knew I was a demigod - immortal, special, surreal
and you could bask in the glow of my gold-forged heart and never be able to break it
pounding blood of fire and mercury.

Once, I was invincible.

Then this morning, I woke up made of clay
a creative, though unremarkable casting of dust

Just like everyone else.
Alex Apples Mar 2010
I hate to be phobic
Or repetative
Hate to be petty
But I worry
That one day
It will all run out
The words, the thoughts
The pictures
And muses
Swirl and slip
Down a sink in my soul
Like a vapor
That I'll sit down
With a pen
And have nothing
Nothing left to say
Worth saying
That hasn't been heard
Or spoken
It doesn't make sense
But still
The gremlins ****
Leave me be
Let me write in peace
For as long as I can
Alex Apples Feb 2010
People stick to me
Like flies to caramel
My sweetness draws them
Then they're caught
I keep them close
Against their will
Holding still
Copyright (c) 2010 Alex Newman
Alex Apples Jul 2013
Since when did the world split
because someone walked into a room
10 minutes past due?
**** me now.

Since when did the earth shift
because you called someone at noon
and they called back around 2?
**** me now.

Since when did time rift
because you don't share their "soon"
but still came through?
**** me now.

Since when did we get caught up in arbitrary pettiness
of e-mails, phone calls, meetings, minutes, seconds
and miss the point entirely?

Mother of God.
**** me now.
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