Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Apr 2013 Cass
PoetWhoKnowIt
I'd rather be

somebody's need
than
           simply
                       a desirable commodity.
 Apr 2013 Cass
Tatiana Arredondo
Part of being free
is realizing that you are not.

Only then will you truly have
the anger,
the passion,
the determination,
and the thirst
to free yourself from
What you can control
and ****** yourself
into what you cannot.
 Apr 2013 Cass
Morgan
Sitting in tired classrooms at the edge of everything, teetering on the precipice with coffee cups hidden between our thighs; taking secret sips just to get by.
We cried ourselves to sleep last night but we're here now, staring mindlessly into rows of maroon chairs & tan desks.
We're dragging each other from Monday through Friday with empathetic sighs & bummed cigarettes.
We're aching for the weekend so that we can drown our insides until we drown the memory of this place.
We're racing up the same road that has carried us home, five days a week for the past four years.
We left our childhood kicking up dust, as it chased behind us at fourteen.
We buried him on a cold February afternoon but didn't accept that he was gone until mid June.
She was crushed under the weight of metal slamming cold, hard steel on a windy road with the April rain pouring through shattered glass.
Casket closed and our sixteen year old eyes wired open.
He flatlined on his living room floor & I only spoke in ball point pens all summer long.
But we're older now & we're eager to find pain in different faces.
Well, you can find me in the city, writing nostalgic poems on the back of every photograph we took in the suburbs.
You can find me counting street lights, on my back where I used to count stars in your arms.
 Mar 2013 Cass
Tatiana Arredondo
4:00AM is the time of night where
the peaceful begin to dream,
the weak find their sleep,
and the dammed lay awake

sinking further into themselves.

It is not their tired mind that
earns them eventual rest,
but the weight of their eyelids.

Missing you is hell on earth.
 Mar 2013 Cass
August
Morning
 Mar 2013 Cass
August
I read something from a long time ago.
And it made me cry.
The thunder outside told me to shut up.
And then I realized it was raining.
But I stopped crying.
Because I'm not supposed to, cry, I mean.
And I grabbed a cigarette.
And my zippo that says lucky on it.
Made of '04.
I love that lighter.
I went outside and lit it.
But I didn't want my mom to come out.
And see how I was.
So I started walking in the rain.
I didn't want my cigarette to get hit by the rain.
So I stuck it underneath my shirt.
And then I walked.
And while I was walking, I tripped.
I accidentally burned my belly button.
How the **** did I manage that.

I'm so stupid

So I walked to the side of the house.
There is a little porch big enough for one.
I finished my cigarette with my eyes closed.
Just listening to the rain.
When it was done, I walked up to the steps.
And I sat down, still getting pelted with water.
I realized I couldn't keep sitting, I was shaking.
So I got up and started walking towards the back of the house.
I walked to the very back, towards the alleyway.
Making sure to drag my feet in the puddles, soaking my pajama pants.
I got to the back gate.
And I started crying again.

You are hopeless, this is hopeless, what are you even doing here?

The thunder told me to shut up again.

You are wasteless

I saw my old trampoline and started jumping on it.
When I was little, I used to sing to the rain.
I would sing good songs, to try and soothe it.
Never sing 'rain rain go away'.
That's makes the rain upset.
And the thunder says to stop.
So I jumped.
And I sang a little bit.
Then I laid down and closed my eyes.
Just got completely soaked, y'know.

You are going to be okay, everything is okay.

Just felt the pitter patter of rain drops on me.
Tried to bury my zippo in my clothes so it wouldn't get wet.
Then I got up, cried a little more.
And I walked back.
I walked back towards the front of the house slowly.

You are going to be okay, everything is okay.

Dragging my feet in puddles.

I miss you Grant, I hate you Sam, and I love you..Well, you know who you are.

Just getting completely soaked.

You are going to be okay, everything is okay.

And I went inside, smiled at my mom.
Went downstairs.
And changed my clothes.
Began getting ready for work.


You are going to be okay, everything is okay.





*You are not okay, everything is not going to be okay.
© Amara Pendergraft 2013
 Mar 2013 Cass
Morgan
Blank Canvas
 Mar 2013 Cass
Morgan
My jaw is aching from clenching my teeth
& with my eyes burning,
I'm swallowing an other pill just to sleep
This year is a current;
Every tired stroke I make
to swim back to my bed only
sends me deeper into a violent sea
Salt water waves flooding over my eyes
This is the kind of night that ends with my insides,
spilling endlessly into my sheets
I will rip every tattoo out of my skin
until I'm just a blank canvas
between tan walls,
waiting to be forgotten
 Mar 2013 Cass
Morgan
It's a Sunday night and
we're driving home from Philly
Every memory from
        before you
                                           Is filled with you
in recollection, now
I can't imagine a day
that I've spent
not knowing you
All of my pain,
I've poured into you

You're
            overrrr
f l o w i n g
beside me
You say you don't even mind
And I believe you

The night swallows
you behind the steering wheel
I fall in love with every glimpse of your cheek bones, the yellow street lights allow me
You drive the speed limit
and pull off the side of the road
just to light a cigarette
You mute the audio
when I start to drift into
a dream land with
my head resting on the window
And my hand
                               slipping away
from your's over the middle console

Some days we spend screaming until our voices
break off into puddles on the floor
And then we collapse against each other
and laugh as you imitate
every ugly face I make when I'm angry

Words have become unnecessary between us
But we talk until our throats ache, anyway

I
want
everything
to
do
with
you


I want you to lower your head in
frustration at the foot of my bed
And grab my hand behind your back
I want you to laugh at my sick voice
And take naps in my living room
For the rest of our lives
And I don't care how
many times you make me cry
As long as you're still here to
wipe the tears on their way out
And I don't care how many t shirts you've carelessly left on my bedroom floor
Or how bad you are at cooking pancakes
I don't even care how loud you snore
Or how often you slam the door

I want everything to do with you
And everything doesn't make exceptions


*I was anchored to the ocean floor before I met you, only taking short breaths to get by. You watch for my feet to slip & find new ways to keep my head above every time I start to sink. You're the shore line I've spent my life swimming toward & with your limbs all wrapped around mine, I feel like I can finally play in the sand.
 Mar 2013 Cass
Morgan
His skin is a canvas,
New lines of art carved into it every day
He has a needle wrapped in thread and dipped in ink on his dresser
And he's sleeping between blood stained sheets
His calves are warm, resting over mine
His eyes are crimson and they're burning holes straight through my collar bones
He's self medicated and sedated,
Staring at his walls like he's never slept between them...
Touching my legs like he's never slept between them...
I worry about him when he closes the door
A thick red pool is forming under his nose every time I find him unconscious on the bathroom floor
He paints over the wearing scar of my name on his forearm every day
And I've stopped asking why
Because the question escaping my throat feels like a death sentence
And every word he uses to respond coats the room in this eerie pain, that feels like a funeral
I've grown weary of the lasting sting as he pulls his hand away
I don't know how many seasons have changed while we've been this way
But if he doesn't open the blinds today, I really can't stay
 Mar 2013 Cass
Anonymous
The Knock
 Mar 2013 Cass
Anonymous
Waiting...
Waiting.
Waiting for him to think of you.
Waiting to be woken up
From the deepest dream
By a heavy knock.
Excited, nervous,
Pure, gentle.
Longing...
Longing to welcome him
Longing to feel,
To touch,
To kiss,
To fall.
Pretending
it's only for awhile
Wishing
it's forever.
Lost lover #999
Next page