Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Calli Kirra Aug 2014
You, my kitten
My coconut rose
The white to my black
Half of the frame,
And you just float
And in your mist I'm less disturbed
My gilded girl
When trips come, or when trips are done
My first plus-one
A diamond tipped knife,
A pink handled gun
We put on a show
They always come for our show
Calli Kirra Aug 2014
I keep my clothes on the floor
And my head in the clouds
My heart in the music
My eyes in the crowd

My skin in the silk,
Sun and warm water
My toes in the rings
My fingers in lacquer

My soul in the streets,
My wrists in the sheets
My hair in the glow
My baby in my dreams
Calli Kirra Aug 2014
I ******* NEED you like the nights
Like, torches in a fire fight
I'm just aching and rolling around
Going down,
Going down
Breaking the mirrors cause I need bad luck
And you're the baddest it gets, I'm limp, got me by the neck
Screaming, I'm the jungle, I go bump in the night
I'm a chilled merlot with you by my side
A ruby ring and the turning tide
Calli Kirra Aug 2014
Even when I say what I want to say it's not what I wanted to ******* say
Calli Kirra Aug 2014
And oh I ache, like a creaking door, like a rusty faucet pipe. I can hear all the blood running it's errands in the sides of my head, it's this bathroom, this ******* bathroom. I feel like the turning handle on a mall gumball machine, no, then I feel like the ******* gumball, and I fall to the little black crevice with door, and you roll me out and pop me into your mouth, chewing hard and your spit is turning blue and I'm getting softer and softer in your lips. A caged Ocelot, and all I have to look to for a golden tomorrow is the poster of all the colorful wildlife, advertising this sickness. This pinging on a metal ceiling. This brownness. But my posters are of a different pair of devastating blue eyes that I know are evil too, but I pacify myself with the thought that they are so light because they are pure and clear, not because they are cold and hard. I started crying in my sleep. And I wake up with the streetlight shining through the window from that ***** alley that I love, and my face is so wet and so pink, and I say it's better that I cry unknowingly than consciously. I beg and toss for migration and distraction, chaos, oh baby where did you go? You can't leave me here with loose pieces of skin and a sick heart. You can't pick off the bottles on the ledge one by one with a rubber band and some pebbles and leave me with nothing. All I've got left are some nail polish bottles, some concert tickets, a few empty backseats. Things are either so incredible and hopeful or so *****, filthy, like gas stations, like the inside of ovens, and my fingers are becoming calloused. I'm floating like a cherry in a ***** shirley. Oh come, with your fingers in my hair, and kiss me.
Calli Kirra Aug 2014
I know what can happen between the times we talk
And well,
This valley drought is ******* us
Drying and cracking the sidewalk
I guess no rain,
No pain,
But soon green will be gray
Let's hope by then I'll be dry of everything I want to say
Calli Kirra Aug 2014
How do I leave this? I want to do something so big.
Next page