Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Winter's Fingers
tickles me and
I cuddle up to the
moon with a
man who has magic
on his skin
the chill of winter
sometimes stings but
there is nothing like
warm flesh on warm flesh...
 Sep 2016 Jason Howell
mickaela
Slip out of your resplendence and  magnificence

and break yourself into my suffocating skin
walk around, feel the demon eyes
carving out your back
searching for your heart
to crunch it in their pretty teeth

look through these tired eyes
let them rest on everything you’ve never seen before
heavy darkness choking this illuminated world
you don’t know what to do
because you feel like the world’s just going to go on
dragging your carcass along

sleep walking while everyone’s dancing
on your body, on your grave
because they don’t know that you’re dead

you’re okay, don’t worry
tell everyone that because
you’re hiding nothing
you’re happy on the inside too

but you know no one’s okay
because the truth can’t help us
until you’re paying money
for people to just listen

you’re trying to break out
because you hate being me
tear off your mind and throw it away
you don’t care if you can’t find it later

watch them move and follow them
because they don’t like how you do it
they’re doing it the right way
walk in their line, wait for nothing
have their praises as appetizers
and gag at their curses like aftertaste

and you’re not them, not like them
but you’re just like them
because everyone cries when they’re alone
and no one’s ever okay unless they try hard
and force it into their souls

wanna throw myself away
so someone can come and fix me

because i broke myself trying
trying to transform into you
fitting squares into little round holes
and breaking the whole to make it hold it

you’re tired.
you’ve had enough.
push yourself out
slip back into your own skin
fit your own head back on

and you still won’t  know me.
Reading this when I'm not sad is like watching a video of myself sleeping. : /
Anyway, thanks for reading <3
 Sep 2016 Jason Howell
Jen Grimes
Purple*
Yellow
Orange
I was thinking of so many things
While the sun was painting a backdrop
I wished to hold onto that order
Purple
Yellow
Orange
As if nothing else mattered
Purple
Yellow
Orange
I was in the mountains again
But now the birds sang
And my ankles were boney
Wobbling against the war-zone of stones
Purple
Yellow
Orange
The snow wasn't stuck to the grass anymore
But melting away
lone piles of it slumped against, wasted rocks
That the mountain had decided to toss away
Purple
Yellow
Orange
I wished to stay here
up on the hill,
watching the sun shimmy down through its peaks.
Purple
Yellow
Orange
Like the way I lined up my socks
Sometimes the purple ones mate would go missing
It's pair left to sit lonely in the sock drawer
Purple
Yellow
Orange
I walked the hill alone
My stomach empty, my head in control
The sun seemed to dangle in the sky,
as if  held up by one string
Waiting for the world to blink asleep
But the birds kept chirping
Purple
Yellow
Orange
I know how the sun feels
I feel strung up as well
My subconscious pulling the strings
While I'm only left to follow
Purple
Yellow
Orange
The mountains make me miss the sea
I miss the beach
Take me back, back
to when we walked the waterfront,
salty ocean air cutting through the heat.
Purple
Yellow
Orange
Maybe I should've jumped
when you told me we could escape
"We could go far, into the sea," you told me.
I think that's when i realized,
Purple,
Yellow
and Orange
are nothing like the waves
of
Blue
and Green.
 Sep 2016 Jason Howell
Farah
small
 Sep 2016 Jason Howell
Farah
I thought the world was big enough for me;
palms that hold the ocean together so
it doesn’t escape between locked fingers,
loveless wrists that drown in the abyss where
I occupy this space that isn’t mine.

I need to be less than I am to fit in between
bars,
so I can escape the prisons of this gruesome insanity
darling, stitch my bones together before
I collapse into scattered pieces
take away from the numbers and make them smaller
like my throbbing heart
and hide those starless veins where there’s no breath
and don’t forget to make a fortress out of my dying skin
for the birds no longer sing on delicate silk sheets
Unkempt dreadlocks atop threadbare suit
he enters the subway car with confident stride
The scents of self-neglect clear a path for him
as though he were a king.

He takes a seat and with uplifted chin
gazes without apology at onlookers
who pretend not to notice his grand entrance.

With deliberate slowness he extracts a half-eaten candy bar
from a crumpled paper bag and fastidiously takes a bite
brushing invisible crumbs from grimy jacket.

Poverty of circumstance has not diminished his dignity.
Next page