Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
You can feel it
I know you can

(You must be perfect)

It's in the pinching shoes
Tight little shorts
Heavy rings and jewelry

(You must be perfect)

It's in the noise
In the bright lights,
Warm bodies

(You must be perfect)

It's in the heat of hair
On your neck,
In tired made-up eyes

(You must be perfect)

It's in the air we breathe
Every moment we're outside

I can feel it
I know you can too
Why can't I write lately?
 May 2017 Baris MacTavish
Fast feet
Pounding on the wet ground
Away from me
I'm screaming. You hear no sound
Head pointed forward
Eyes aimed straight ahead
Where are you headed toward?
Feet struggle to keep up with the one that fled
Rain drenching my skin
Thunder echoing in my ear
Storm holds me back again
Body aches to catch up so you'd be near
You were always faster than me
Always fleeing and I was left to try to retrieve
You were always loud and free
I was always more quiet. Never one to leave
Now here you are leaving me again to deal with the pain
Now I swallowed my fear to chase
My feet stumble. I can't seem to gain
Slow down and make this an even race
Fast feet
Running away from me
Slow down and try to see
That it is you I need
salvage your heart
minced in a porcelain saucer
for tea time is nigh

a cordial matter
for those of pin cushion affections
and for the self who is tended to as a
lazy laced love
in concentrated steeped weep
she is porous and kempt
underneath seven layers of tunneling veins

the first chronicles birth to end birth
her cycle
regular load
warm rinse
tumble dry

the second spoons out perverses
honey drizzle on her sacred bell
all for a man to dine and dash
Christ died for her sinful pleasures

the third cultivates fear of yellows
caution, wet floor
your father's skin three days before expiration
lemon lozenge in baby's gorge

the fourth is paralysis
in sleep in speech
in speep in sleech
in in in
in slurry sleep in
in snory speech

the fifth tickles her eyelashes
soft legs soon to amputate
wishes many a wishes
self-ful sacrifices

the sixth weighs a wagon and a mule
which will carry better?
her only baggage is a clove of garlic
a wooden axe
and birthday twine

the seventh encases in a web
a black button estranged from mothercoat

she is beneath this button coin
a porous sponge-doll
gowned in sheer satin night
she is kempt after all
spin softly my sage sprig
among airy ammo thistles arise a fig
righteous riddles rack to rake
as apple ash finds anguish in afternoons awake
hush here and haste the hallowed halt
keep kind karaoke kisses in kindred kalt
indigo irised image inundate within innate
my muse my miser my makeshift mausoleum mate
i say you
take mine for what it is
left aluminum peg
and a bruisey egg of a leg

i say i
love your gummy lips on mine
we chew chew right in synced line
speckled sour and red 40
clunky eggshell whites corrody

i say you
take yours for what it can do
sardine tinned preserved true
meal for three and a seal for me

i say we
root our tongues in the steel pails
cold shallow floor is a wall to wail
by lick and tick of our cursed ***** tether

i say soon soon
soon tethered together
you ****** me up through a bendy straw
while i sipped on you through a coffee stirrer
granulates of sugar i was
granulates of salt you were
granulates of sugar you was
granulates of salt i were
stirred into a tub mug
bathed within–a girl
pruned and shriveled by creamed cold whips
lashed from a devil’s tail
pale and stale her fingers became
fingers curled and coiled around a bendy straw
face clenched at hinges  
dental spikes meet at coffee stirrer, chewed soft
one sip sufficient
I asked myself about myself and the response left me breathless -- it looked like a sunflower and felt like heaven
 Nov 2016 Baris MacTavish
Air is always crisp, no
matter where I am

Cool air swirls into my lungs
I think, I think and I think
I'd like to shut off this part of me
that over-analyzes
Because I have this feeling
that if I just quiet my mind
I'll experience such profound insight
like never before
It sounds counter intuitive,
But ceasing to verbalize
just may be the gateway to
most of our solutions

When I dream
I go places or do things unfathomable
I use to live quite an unfathomable life
Even though back then I was really depressed
and disassociated
When I look back, it's weird
Because it seems to me like
I should have been having the best times of my life
But really I was just in situations
That looked fun and thrilling
But I was just so perturbed back then
I lived as wildly as Hunter S Thompson back then
Or maybe I was like Jack Kerouac,
On The Road
It sounds fun
But I was just always on the run
Always trying to escape to the point
of escaping my own mind by dissociating
Looking into the mirror and feeling so distant
from the reflected image
Taking dangerous concoctions of alcohol and drugs
And not a moment of my waking life
was their a point where I wasn't high on ****
Making that Mary Jane be my codependent lover
One I couldn't live without
Even with the paranoia and the panic attacks...

Last night I had a dream
that I smoked **** again
And my throat closed up
and I started choking...
In that dream I remember what it was like
Back in my senior year of high school
I can barely remember
It was all just an excruciatingly painful blur
I wake up to my reality,
and although it's not all I want it to be
I couldn't be more grateful
That I'm out of the self sabotage
With a healthier personality
It's weird to think of who I used to be
Because of how much I've changed
I can't believe that was who I used to be
Radically reformed is my identity
It's just really weird, you see
It's beyond human reason
to understand this change
that has happened in me.
A lil sleepy so not one of my best poems, but I just needed to get these thoughts out.
 Nov 2016 Baris MacTavish
They don't care you're alive or not
I live with the deaths
Next page