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indigo chandler Apr 2013
laying in my bed it's 4:27 
in the morning
my window is propped open washing me with waves of heat and sound
the birds chirping, don't they know the time?
i feel itchy all over i think i'm covered in bugs
how ridiculous it is yet in the morning my skin is raw and scabbed
battle wounds
i begin to drift off at last, allowing myself to slip into sweet nothingness
nothingness indeed
i'm floating between realities; the reality in which i'm itchy with bloodshot eyes and the reality with you
just as i finally reach my sanctuary my paradise my peace, 
just as your hand is practically tangibly intertwined with mine,
the birds are no longer chirping
screaming
they are screaming and rip me from you
mental whiplash
and though i curse them for sending you away
i know i must thank them for saving me the exquisitely delicate pain of the unrequited passion i would be welcomed by
come dawn
indigo chandler Jan 2015
it's waking up at 4 in the afternoon
making pasta for breakfast,
neglecting the dishes + laundry
and realizing that's okay.

it's looking in the mirror and,
instead of feeling detached
& looking away, locking eyes with the
parallel representation & feeling grounded.

it's swallowing back that metallic taste,
past the lump in your throat,
blinking away salty beads,
putting on some lipstick and holding your head high.

it's that feeling when a popsicle melts
all over you & gets you terribly sticky,
remembering more carefree times that entailed
scraped knees and many a sticky snack.

it's being able to miss someone
but not quite long for them.
it's remembering the good moments
instead of letting the ugly drown them out.
indigo chandler Jan 2014
prying my eyes open with some god forsaken force unknown to me
i blindly shove another sour patch kid in my mouth
choking down the harsh artificial sugars
choking back thoughts of you
rolling my eyes back into my head as i think
everything happens in good time
right?
neglected body hair and dry heat begin to scratch at my legs
it's an ungodly hour of the night.../morning
technicalities
a bead of sweat rolls down my forehead and i think
you'll come around
as i lay awake dreaming of the last subject of my writings
and pretend the excruciating ending
is a mystery to me
indigo chandler Apr 2013
a milkshake on a smoldering day
marlboro reds in hand
linking arms to hold me up;
help me in your van.

you don’t yell when i crank the tunes
or spill stuff on the floor.
too many selfies taken, still
you let me take some more.

it starts to get real frosty out;
sweaters and quick smokes.
it’s not too bad staying in now,
hiding from our folks.

i’m not quite certain what went down
or if you even knew,
but i came home and
the only thing different was you.

**** happened again, but now, this time
i knew what to expect:
our bridge burned out; you’re
gone; ashes and i are all that’s left.
indigo chandler Apr 2013
open the door
come out some more
you're too much a bore
just sit on your floor

the grimy-*** woodwork
washed out with splinters
the ***** **** carpet
your social skills hindered

i'm sorry that i couldn't be happy
i'm sorry my life was so ******
i'm sorry i became so sappy
i'm sorry my text posts got so yappy

so write your last words down on my arm
i'll try to choke down my talk of harm
we'll forget this partnership ever took place
the echoes and traces gone of my face

hello old drama
i'll see you tomorrow
there will be no contact
just second-hand feedback

together we could dive into
each others ****** up souls but you
got scared or maybe i don't know
for some reason you just had to go

all that remains is lost intentions
and i will still cringe when your name she mentions
the pages are torn and you took them with you
i'll drift away with nothing, not a clue

my palms are clammy
the car isn't starting
sit on the side of
the highway, eyes darting

guess there won't be more downtime
i can learn  to look on the bright side
you saved me a **** ton of gas money
so i'll just leave and say "thanks, honey"
i think i hate this but it just makes me feel
indigo chandler Feb 2014
every night
i lay on my side
as miniscule tears
leak out the corner of my eye
stinging the skin
they seep down.
it's 3:51 am
and I'm realizing that
my body
is correlating
itself with
your vacant heartbeats.
i think of you
and all that you promised
and wonder if
these promises
remain,
and my body reacts.
i begin to overheat
and get worked up;
my veins jump and
my fingers twitch.
i distract myself
long enough to cool myself down
(to a more appropriate for the mood
frigid temperature)
but just as fast as
a rubber band
snaps back into shape,
you creep back
over the threshold
of my bruised thoughts,
and i begin to heat up
once more
thinking of how
the sun shines out of your ***
and that to me
the stars are
in your eyes.
indigo chandler Apr 2013
eleven:fifty 
the quick turnarounds are cute 
tangible tension 

the thrill of the rush
jawbone shadows killing me
take off your flannel

i like when you're mad
i like it when you hate me
i like when you stare

smooth brush, quiet gasp
*** burns going down your throat
but makes you like me
indigo chandler Jul 2013
july 16 2011
the air stuck to my skin,
clinging for life,
grasping for adhesion.
the cool, night air making minuscule mountains rise all across my arms.
we were far from alone,
yet all i could possibly be aware of was you.
feeling my head roll back onto the tweed, orange sofa, i looked up through the roof windows of the teepee.
i began to count and trace the stars,
only to steady my rapid heartbeat and abrupt breathing.
the breeze picks up and suddenly penetrates deep into my core,
sending out waves of shudders throughout my entire body.
shaking like a dandelion in a windstorm, you invite me closer and closer,
you can see the look of hesitation in my eye,
you understand it;
you feel it too.
ignoring your instincts, you envelop my frigid torso in your warm, big arms.
finally settling in, the others begin to disperse,
one by one,
until only we remained.
the beauty of this mid-july night was apparent,
and, all tucked away,
we laid there for hours
listening
intently
to the bullfrogs, to the crickets,
to the sound of the waves from the small lake kissing the shore, to the cool breeze mingling with the sweet warm summer air.
the morning crept along and we pulled each other
in and out
of the haze we created.
in the morning, it was cold again,
but i got only your jacket and a hushed
"don't tell".
indigo chandler Mar 2014
just today I found out that just yesterday
a girl I briefly knew died from leukemia.
not even 18 this girl that I spoke to once
possibly twice
has struck me in my core.
she has broken my month-long drought of tears.
she has united 500+ people that generally tolerate each other.
she has shown us at such a young age true bravery.
she has lived while dying.
she has studied, not knowing if there was time to graduate.
she has humbled me entirely.
(my problems that before seemed so earth shattering now seem so dimly irrelevant.)
she has reminded me to pray, and to pray about someone other than myself.
all I have to say is
**** cancer.
indigo chandler Jul 2013
i get this sort of sickly feeling
every time july comes around
because with every summer day
that i realize that you’re
not here
comes the kind of sting that you feel
when you’re shaving your legs
and the blade nicks the thin layer of skin
on the back of your achille’s tendon.
you should be at my side
volunteering to herd the children
like cattle into the mess hall,
because you’re allergic to peanuts
and because i looked pretty.
you should be sitting across the
table from me at breakfast
not directly
diagonally; one seat to the right;
giving me a knowing smile every time you catch my eye.
you should be jokingly making fun of my
unshaved thighs
when really you don’t expect me to change them at all.
you should still be working with me
in the kitchen
doing trash rounds
in the garden, weeding in the blazing sun
while all of my insecurities drip down my skin
with the sweat beads that roll and race each other.
you should be trying to hold the camera steady
as your shoulders bounce lightly from your laughter,
deep chuckles and the occasional squeak due to a
voice crack
as i pick up chickens and sing to them,
and smile at the camera.
you should be apologizing to me
for your ex-girlfriend calling my phone
and requesting you,
even though it’s not your fault.
you should still be nestled against me,
your sad, fragile head resting in my lap,
as you ask me why you deserve what she does
and i tell you that you don’t
and gently rock your worries away.
you should be wrapping your arms around me,
not as a goodbye,
not as a hello,
not even as an i’ve missed you,
or an i’m sorry,
not as a martyr
or a lover,
but as the best friend you used to be.
oops luv ya
indigo chandler Apr 2013
your face is still scrunched up with angst
"she put my arm about her waist,
and made her smooth white shoulder bare"
i want you
i want you
i want you
"give herself to me for ever,
but passion sometimes would prevail"
it's getting slightly awkward
we've made 3 sketchy glances now
oh, that makes 4
you know
i know
"happy and proud, at last i knew
Porphyria worshipped me"
you know
"that moment she was mine, mine, fair,
perfectly pure and good"
starts to sink in
"i am quite sure she felt no pain"
guilt starts pumping itself through your veins,
coursing through your body with such force
you can't hide it
"now why did he **** her?"
"he must have loved her too madly."
always love
with that you look directly at me
as i choke down some water to keep myself from throwing myself in your tempting arms that are "like home"
ready to have my yellow hair wrapped
3 times
around my little throat
going limp
forever wrapped in your disgusting guilt
indigo chandler May 2013
seeping, sapping
my body at last awakens
contorting, cramping
the moon fills me with life
old life, new life
brought upon my very being
delicate, debilitating
my body is a fighting flower

it reeks of judgment, 
glistens with pride
producing the essence of power
it isn't some full moon curse
it's a beautiful magic
indigo chandler Apr 2013
mary mary
excavate the soil
bury the roots
quite contrary 
the ground feels violated 
(as do i)
with silver bells
they penetrate invasively 
with no regard or remorse
and cockle shells
the soil recoils
let's the being consume
and so my garden grows

— The End —