Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Aug 2015 E
Ambient Destruction
This girl I used to know
Is stuck to my ceiling
A miracle of chemistry
Never mind gravity
This strange feeling
That got stuck there and
Died on a school Tuesday
And I remember how the final words
That tasted those soft lips
Sounded like the snap-crackle-crunch of
My spine breaking
How every Wednesday since then is
Bring yourself to work
And I go as a better version of myself
But I always get caught
Somehow
And now that I'm lost out here in the world
It happens somewhere inside my head
And I'd dig it out with a spoon
If only I knew how
And I miss this entire world we had
The quirky things that are no longer there
Like the demolished wood and plastic arcade
The sweet smell of Dr. Peppers and sweaty pennies
Everything feels unreal now
A documentary without an audience
Shot from a million miles away
Beauty is locked behind bulletproof glass
And everything is displayed for us to "touch"
But all we ever get to do is "see"
A cold existence
Without texture
A smudge of something that once was
Splinters and cuts if you get too close
And happiness is stuck in detention
Until you divide yourself with infinity
And pre-order the game of life
Twice
And I remember how
When two people launch their kites
And the storm comes
The strings always find a way to tangle
Until one side snaps
And breaks free of the other
I remember how a penny has two sides
And a world without broken hearts
Is a world without hearts at all
But I miss the games we played
And there's this awkward silence
Like when a game we shared ends
And we both say we're out of pennies;
And one of us lies.
Kids playing grownup games.

Childhood series #9
 Aug 2015 E
JR Potts
I can hear gulls squawking
like catcallers in the streets
of New York City
but they're not talking to me,
they're speaking to the ocean breeze.
They'll be heading south soon.
Fall is coming
and you can taste it
even in the August heat.

I still have memories
of childhood summers
that lasted longer than some years
recently.
Can't help but think of the days
I wasted worried about
who I would be
and now I'm someone
sitting beneath a girthy oak tree
wearing a collared button up
that hangs on me a little too loosely.

I don't know what that means
but it may mean something
to somebody else
who writes love letters to life,
that might just double
as quiet cries for help
in a world so high on noise
it's forgotten poetry.
 Aug 2015 E
Justin S Wampler
You've got a painful grip
on reality, with those
sun-burnt palms from
waiting with arms wide open
for someone to come back to you.

The sky unfolds before
your dry eyes
in layers and miles
of deceit and lies,
as the sun becomes the moon,
smiling borrowed light
down upon you.

Ridiculing your commitment.

Mocking your hallucinating mind
with illusions of grandeur,
and false relief,
in the face of the great grief
you hold so closely
to your heart.

I love you like this.

I love you when the curtains are drawn
and the light pours down around you
like an electrical hurricane.

I love you in the morning dawn
waiting for love to ground you,
while soaring through the pain.
 Aug 2015 E
A
Baby I'm Ice Cold
 Aug 2015 E
A
Feels like I'm breathing candyfloss and using my hands to stretch over the lonely sun

*** to a ****** boy like the ecstasy in the manner in which my eyes appreciate the presence of the August summer peering through the blinds when I wake up next to you.

Guilty avatars galavant in my veins as your fingers travel travel
travel
lose themselves in and along my skin

I know your fingers have felt the skin that covers my body better than the white sheets at the morgue
but now I need
I need I want I need
need
you to be a engineer and use your fingers to reach inside my skin and fix everything that is broken
for I am nothing but a second hand car
Beaten, forgotten, misused.
Misused, forgotten, beaten.

Baby I'm sad, and I'm begging you to be the one that see's through me
 Aug 2015 E
Akemi
home folds itself
 Aug 2015 E
Akemi
Smoke under your clothes
Who’d know?
Summer died beneath you
In some apartment we ****** in
5:23am, August 2nd 2015

Where did you go?
 Aug 2015 E
blushing prince
we are the insects trapped inside homemade fly traps
glued on at the roof of the mouth
underbelly, I run around looking for trouble
trailer park princess, bar-fights in every space between my teeth
I'm a child of a child

I beat my paper wings against the shamelessness
Dance like the cigarette breaks are forever
Swisher blunts for the forget-me-not flowers inside backseats of cars, cabs, stolen automobiles
Revenge, locked jaw police officers like the fathers that never let you hold a gun so you become one

Taste blood, tongues, beauty in chaos
loose lips, stolen drugstore mascara and no more bruised knees
Boys like soft but you're the ******* Armageddon, knuckle-ring gods and all
so the men want to be kings and you grow up a feral cat sleeping in twin sized beds with a mouthful of curse words

Lord of the flies, lot lizards and truck-stop races
gritty bathroom graffiti is the cathedral but prayers never stop
Taverns with your name and the angels that spit
The television static never ends here, cicadas  
Doors with mosquitoes held hostage, home for supper
wasted by dessert

Down in the dirt, grimy bathtub I unearth all the things I couldn't drink away; all the motel fantasies, ***-stained skirts and the neon lights waiting for the swarm
 Jul 2015 E
Dulce Ivonne
...
 Jul 2015 E
Dulce Ivonne
...
Most times,
I live on the pause;



the lingering,
between what you say,
                    and what I hear.
The livid moment of incessant
existence when I take from life,
the meaning within moments.
The weight of a second, drawn
like blood,
from the bare atmosphere.
 Jul 2015 E
KD Miller
7/28/2015
"It was a queer, sultry summer; the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York."* Sylvia Plath

I used to  believe
not think, that word implies
there is effort,

that I was stuck in a bayou of
twigs that stuck into sand colored
thick dirt. that the hallways at school

sunk me with every step.
The sun stayed up higher the
later it got and soon I

realized that no matter how hot it
shone i just felt embarrassed
for it like a ****** woman you

see at a bar late at night in a city.
the city was
my frequent companion, yes

six times in two months
I counted: I had been only
four times last year

I still did not know
where I was and why I was
Even the amethysts and
little emeralds in the street signs

seemed sickly to me after a while,
seemed dull and tiring and
i stood in the sidewalks in alphabet city,

Villanti eating a peach on a stoop,
and the subway grate below me pulled me up with its twirling vines of ***** air

and pulled me down
Next page