Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
1.2k · May 2017
31420xx1
l b d May 2017
the snow is starting to melt and i've been watching the way ponds form on cement and thinking about the space between my feet and the gatherings of runoff. i've concluded that the space is too much.

yesterday, you left your rain boots by the back door, balled up your socks and said "i'm tired of how long we've been apart" to the natural world. i watched you rush into the aforementioned space, making it no longer too much, watching you overlap that space with your own and i wanted to be a part of that space.

i imagined tiny ships sailing around your soles and i wondered if your heavy steps would upset sailors. i thought, they must be running for their life vests now, fearing a dip in ice cold waters as their vessels rock back and forth. something about the scene made me feel sadistic, like i enjoyed watching you leap through puddles too much to save the microscopic sea men and women. i told myself this wasn't sadism. i told myself to stop comparing everything i do to sadism.

the space between your feet and the water (which is none) is also somewhere deep inside my chest because i can feel the way you jump and grin inside of me. your toes touch tough flesh, arteries and veins and i put a palm to my ribcage to keep the beat inside. i'm grinning back. you're waving. i'm waving back.
written march of 2014, part of a collection of mine called "the approximate circumference of a dislodged cerebellum". all of the pieces from it are written on a type writer and completely raw/unedited.
812 · May 2017
a dream
l b d May 2017
i remember going to a museum
which was also the end of a movie.
it was eleven floors tall, blue outside,
windows placed throughout swirling hallways

i don’t remember most of the floors,
but at the top there were animals;
we began observing little birds at first,
who seemed to be out of their cages

(all of the animals were out of their cages)
written 2.12.2016
l b d May 2017
start by slipping inside,
gaze into mirror’s eyes
and let the fauna guide you;

traverse the primordial path
you’ve been walking your whole life,
take careful steps across unseen stones
where a riverbed breeds demons you draw down
(just let them see you)

enter expanse after expanse
to rediscover homes you left behind here
barren,
it greets you like it's just been lost
not abandoned

dust off bookshelves filled with volumes you wrote
crimson words and periwinkle spines open wide
your fingers know these footsteps
tracks of yours long forgotten

these are the spaces that know you best
stories piled to the roof,
shoelaces you’ve left untied
if you spend enough time here,
you might just manage to find yourself
written in 2015. published in my university's literary collection.
407 · May 2017
untitled 0002
l b d May 2017
i want to stand up,
to know where that wonder is
in both dimensions.
found haiku?
405 · Sep 2020
29
l b d Sep 2020
29
metal and twisted
the cage went up the ropes
to find
a long end

the darkness was sticky,
the strain clung to a faint light
with his right hand

for a moment,
he saw resolve
404 · May 2017
i'm a 21st century stain
l b d May 2017
(a ballad in 5 parts)

I.
there’s so much meaning here
between floorboards and music scores
the peacefulness rots my soul to the bone
and i’m a walking gramophone
knowing i can only sing
when i’m alone
so tear my lungs to bits
and hide them there, where silence sits
out of the way of everyday drolls
because i need this space to flow
mold me;

II.
i’ve been screaming since womb’s release
and if you think i’ll ever keep the peace,
you’re wrong; i long to burn you
in between my teeth, like old strings,
i know i cannot touch you, nor
will you ever be taught to see
people like me
are meant to be, so
unfold me;

III.
god, if you’re up there, hear my gruesome prayer,
tear down the chords that strung us up tight
took away these rights, unite the sight
behind these eyes before i’m blind again,
don’t tell me that the lives of men still matter
because i am not a man,
thrice been, now never am
you see, i’m a grotesque:
undress these guts
and i’ll bleed
behold me;

IV.
its hard to believe there’s something more
once my foot’s out the door and you’re
running from prison
once you’re chopped off our heads
let the windpipes glisten
let me speak through my wheezes
if it pleases you, sir
withhold me;


V.
so here i am, alone again
the only way to hear the pen as it
strikes strikes strikes the page
breaks breaks breaks the cage
inky gore, caress these days
‘cause they’re sinking through
the languished haze
of all these old how-do-you-dos
because
you can’t
control me.
written january 2015 for my literature of the grotesque final project. a little gory commentary on being queer, trans and mentally ill in the 2010s.
359 · Sep 2020
37
l b d Sep 2020
37
there was a dawn
floating over the odds
out of sight
where many had rusted

he hovered above
the ominous plaster,

and the fear he caused began
345 · May 2017
untitled 0004
l b d May 2017
draw close to bad news
like godhood to knowledge;

we are painfully aware of impossibility
and torn to bits by strength and courage

for out of this come new feelings,
ones that it's best to keep.
the best poem i wrote tonight. trying to keep those creative juices flowing.
345 · May 2017
untitled 0001
l b d May 2017
downhill,
mud-colored sands
gently climb the windows,
rusting the fingers and veins of my hands.

the hazy shape
of tiny islands remained
until divine rocks worked over the seams
first of a series of found poems i wrote tonight. i'm fixing my creative brain bit by bit.
330 · Oct 2020
68
l b d Oct 2020
68
the brothers wearily dropped down
as the mud turned back the engine
and the ground left deep distance
316 · Sep 2020
20
l b d Sep 2020
20
she opened a door somewhere,
and a rhythmic familiar cried
(in tones of unspeakable disgust)

"the blackest passion
will mangle the world
in his mouth"
302 · May 2017
untitled 0003
l b d May 2017
for six years, the world
sees laughter,
finds homes
and goes off to meet time.
284 · Sep 2020
23
l b d Sep 2020
23
the gate froze
while he said

"two beings with silver
made their eyes"

wonder why
he had seen them
many times
255 · Oct 2020
6x
l b d Oct 2020
6x
feed
midway between
the rope and the wheel

the energy withdrew
at the last quaver
231 · Oct 2020
333
l b d Oct 2020
333
i wondered
if other planets
lie
and mirrors
only control the past
beneath the windowless door
his companion
wished to explore
229 · Sep 2020
13
l b d Sep 2020
13
human progress
will eliminate the globe
and war
must
be older than earth
202 · Oct 2020
127
l b d Oct 2020
127
it was lost
to the glowing spark

with a sigh
the serene morgue
set the smiling tissue aside
and summoned the slime
200 · Sep 2020
11
l b d Sep 2020
11
the truth leaned back
with cool eyes
and declared

"the most certain words echo"
i'm getting back to poetry slowly but surely... for now, i plan on posting from a few collections of found poems.
186 · Oct 2020
203
l b d Oct 2020
203
the weather box
digested the clock

rooms crawl with
mysterious pink sun

at night,
the garden burned the silhouette
"the weather box digested the clock" is a line i'd consider using in another, longer piece. i love that image.
149 · Sep 2020
25
l b d Sep 2020
25
the wire crept away
from a hollow

they walked around their throats,
his face was a snarl
on the other's teeth
148 · Sep 2020
17
l b d Sep 2020
17
he would have to
control his menace;

with a blurred curtain
i collapsed in the
nearby
undead
world
112 · Oct 2020
86
l b d Oct 2020
86
the edge of the crystal
never came down
from the unconscious

(you're giving too much
and you killed your body)
probably my favorite of this particular collection
110 · Oct 2020
61
l b d Oct 2020
61
only
the slightest moan
bathed the illusion;

a patter of pings
upon the storm's shoulder
91 · Sep 2020
42
l b d Sep 2020
42
under his feet
the trees reawakened
the brush found skins of leather
in his nakedness

as powerful as the gesture was,
their gun came to ****
82 · May 2018
love poem #5
l b d May 2018
i am her summer-house
six o' clock
sound of moss-dappled dance

i am woodland ways
nine o' clock
bells and mushroom smells

i can hear twilight around us
above us
and here
on the tilt of words never said
i began a new collection of found poems in an old collection of love poems. i'll post a few of my favorites to share with you. :)

— The End —