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5d · 45
shallow hook
On the surface of her eyes,
An algal pool in full bloom.
He wades in with his lashes, caught,
Stumbles around in the fishing nets
Soaked to the knee.

The place in which the oxygen should be
Is choked up now, perplexed, verdant,
A floating city of jealous skirts
Buffeted by a harsh March wind...

And further down, he has her pinned
Tracing paths in shallow waters
Close yet distant to seashell ears
Roughening the lilypad surface
With a single feather.

Through algal bloom, she wonders whether
He'll bother wading down to meet
The covert Atlantis beneath his feet.
the sailor dips his fingers in and decides he's explored the depths
Mar 5 · 164
Dominique Mar 5
You teach life to mimic art,

Even as you're dying.


Yet listen to my heart:

"Now that's a craft worth trying."
Never content with the stream at her feet, the young girl wrapped up in the crackling heat.
Mar 2 · 61
write for me
Dominique Mar 2
write for me
you insist, forcing sparking needles
between the folds of my grey gum brain
and i try because i’ve seen sunlight
and shocking green trees in a paradise city
so writing should come easily
write for me
because we’re caught in an infinity
of ill health and lead heads
and everyone praises the power
of the written word
before they’ve even read it
write for me
like you have ideas balled up in your fists
but refuse to let them out
like it’s your fault we’re stuck like this
on the outside of a drowning horizon
like with one more word
i’ll finally break free
write for me
so i try again.
I don't actually remember writing this but here it is
Feb 28 · 52
Dominique Feb 28
I didn't cry throughout the week;
I didn't open gashes either,
Or carve waves into the floor
With bits of glass from the kitchen
(Like I usually do).

And I didn't lick my cacti or
Graffiti ****** phrases on the wall
Or drown myself in a steaming bubble bath
(Like I wanted to).

I wrote poetry;
Reported it to strangers who
Didn't know his name or his face
And I felt at peace with the tragedy.

But admitting it to you
Collapsed into your arms, your scent
(The safe one that puts me to sleep
And protects me from traffic)
It was different somehow.

When I whispered "It really hurts",
My ribcage released the breath
It had been clutching for 180 hours.
"It really does," my cells conceded,
And a flood broke through my lashes.

Crying is a blessing,
Because I know that for once I am
Allowing myself to weep.

There is nothing left to dilute the sunlight from here.
Dominique Feb 28
two things I will never feature in.
Feb 26 · 92
aimless villanelle
Dominique Feb 26
backstreets at dusk radiate a soft charm
thoughts trickle down like nightfall on the glass
beneath the urban blue we're out of harm

you tap an aimless rhythm on my arm
laugh at graffiti on the overpass
backstreets at dusk radiate a soft charm

a ****** of words breeze through the evening calm
they pirouette away from conscious clasp
beneath the urban blue we're out of harm

catch a falling leaf in your open palm
we wander slow though the road glimmers fast
backstreets at dusk radiate a soft charm

your eyes blur mellow and lose the alarm
aureate dream dust just beyond our grasp
beneath the urban blue we're out of harm

we fade our wounds within this twilight balm
forget your feet and leave them in the grass
backstreets at dusk radiate a soft charm
beneath the urban blue we're out of harm
blissfully unproductive
Feb 25 · 91
Dominique Feb 25
Love, I hope the drugs that hold you
Keep you high as you had me
‘Cause I’m dealing with the freefall
If it lands me at your feet
Then I’ll wrap around your legs and
Stumble off my battered knees
Rip a bouquet from my lungs
And wipe my blood across your cheek
And when I’m done, I’ll whisper “please”

You unwind me
Don’t remind me of what I lost
Leave me alone
Shatter my bones if that’s the cost

I watched a sports car choke a rose
Found I longed to be the ash
And drowned it in a line of prose
Opened up a surface ****
But you found your way inside my mind
Left me blind to all of life
I vowed to leave you behind but
All my evergreen trees died
And I sat and bled and cried, “Please”

You unwind me
Don’t remind me of what I lost
Leave me alone
Shatter my bones if that’s the cost
unfinished for now~
Feb 22 · 73
Dominique Feb 22
I can taste it all now,
The sunlight like glazed sugar,
The caramel of silence in the woods.

Blood bleeds away with water
The rapids carry it quickly through
So no sour iron stains the soil.
There is no laughter from her anymore
Just the resigned


Of a neck supported by thistles
As it rolls like a stone off the shoulder.
All around, the world looks away
Blushes bashfully a few times
So the sky projects the warmest blue
A little compensation for the tragedy.

No soul remains *******
She's bubbles, gone, evaporated
The little thoughts she had left
Trickling in amber down her tongue
While the bees inspect her honey hair.

Later on, she slides further in the water
And they assume she has drowned.
Everyone simply ignores the mermaid fins
That blossom across her back
And claims she couldn't swim.

At least she died looking up.
Another one inspired by BtT
Feb 22 · 89
Leslie's death
Dominique Feb 22
The sky rushed down to meet her
Embrace her slow decay
The roots of Terabithia
Wind round her to this day
The mountains she created
Shrink down to kiss her feet
And everywhere she ran
The soil tastes bittersweet

That day, she cracked her being
Against the sharpened *****
Her fingers gently spasming
Still stuck around the rope
And all the world was emerald
It watched her fade away
The birds could barely watch and
The sunshine dropped a ray

While seeing this was frightening,
So grim it took my breath,
Who knew I could be jealous

Of Leslie's perfect death?
The Bridge to Terabithia makes me cry every time
Feb 21 · 92
Deleting me
Dominique Feb 21
Everything is pixellated
Your eyes are squares, you try to stick me
Into a neat little graphic box for later
And then you never come back.

Everything is monochrome
There's beauty in the symmetry
You fall for a girl so you try to date her
And then you never come back.

Everything is cracking
You distort the piece's key
Shoot my gun and label me the traitor
And then you never come back.

Everything is you
All my brain cells agree
No universal force is greater
Except you never come back.
not sure
Feb 21 · 393
Dominique Feb 21
i have so little of me left

                                                    it's  s l i v e r s, really, silhouettes

a     scatter ing            of cel ls     at be st

                                                       why would i let you have the rest?
i wish i could unselfishly give myself to people
unfortunately today it seems that there's barely enough of me for me.
Feb 21 · 85
A toxic marriage
Dominique Feb 21
She gave you her blood to drink
It's crystal and safe and it lets you think
Craft pieces of art from her mangled remains
Scrape out her insides and shrug off the stains

She gave you her kids to feed
You're brutal and cold but you half-succeed
By making a business from life that you skin
And turning away as it rots in the bin

She gave you a bath of light
A fire by which your ambition could fight
Now you use her up , creating your own
The scene is dire but it's made your throne.
the london school walkout was inspiring and it gave me some hope for the future. If enough of us push together to lobby the government into making changes for the good of our future and the Earth, we could really go far. At the same time, I feel like a subtle hypocrite since, aside from being a steadfast vegeterian, I don't do all that much to help the planet out. I think we can all decide to try a little harder for all our sakes. <3
Feb 21 · 54
Hollow enough
Dominique Feb 21
One blank look from him
And I'm hollow enough to write poetry again.

Should I send a thank-you note
Or crumple it and stuff it down his throat?
Not sure what's worse, writer's block or this void.
Feb 21 · 74
Keeping track
Dominique Feb 21
Whisper yearningly to the tracks
Sometimes they scribble a letter back
You pray there’s no gaps in your signals
Because they’ll make up the language you lack

Watch the rain pelting at the keys
Nightmare typewriter spits back your needs
Better to smash the phone than to call
The heart on the sleeve is the first to bleed

Throw yourself down and abandon your bags
Mingle your blood in the poppies and ****
Let the breaks squeal out a goodbye

Throw yourself down and abandon your words
Live out the boring cliche they've all heard
Everyone's famous when they die

Tell the tracks your narcissist thoughts
They'll publish a tale fit to be bought
They scrawl out encouragement from below
Grant a last hug to the devil you know

Now the sun's out and life is blessed
A delay on the train tracks at best
The passengers grumble until they're told
That you needed a railway hand to hold

And the train pulls away
It was never okay.

Throw yourself down and abandon your bags
Mingle your blood in the poppies and ****
Let the breaks squeal out a goodbye

Throw yourself down and abandon your words
Live out the boring cliche they've all heard
Everyone's famous when they die

The railway track knows how to write.
Feb 21 · 81
Dominique Feb 21
In the middle of a blank canvas
Sits little more than a drop of ****.

When the painter dips in to his palette,
The colours squeal an old-fashioned salute-
His favourite reunion: ash with dust.
He cannot see them well enough
Look closely; his eyes are thick with foil
And his pinkie jerks to drop the brush-
What passion gives, boredom can quickly spoil-

But he paints not for the sake of the colours,
They may to him be stains from any meal;
The calloused hands ache for a pinprick
Of the higher love the calloused heart can’t feel.
Feb 19 · 46
All the pretty things
Dominique Feb 19
Sunlight has substituted blood on the tiles
The shower steam is not a monster for you to fight
Observe the hands that used to shake start to glide  
And all the headlights charming demons in the night

Salty rays replace the regular despair
Instead of tears you're leaking light during weekdays
The fantasies that turned roots into your hair
Give in to skyward looks and plans for future ways

And all the pretty things that stop you walking out the door
Multiply before your eyes and pin you to the floor
They bury in beneath your skin like pebbles in the shore
Until the razor-headed dragon cannot sting you anymore

Loved ones have substituted sleeves on your arms
The wine stains that once held you find it hard to stick
And though the taste of iron has a certain charm
The coffee on your lips will never make you sick

I'm sorry,
You're lovely,
I hope you're alright
I sent all
My angels
To your place last night
They told me you'll be fine

'Cause all the pretty things that stop you walking out the door
Multiply before your eyes and pin you to the floor
They bury in beneath your skin like pebbles in the shore
Until the razor-headed dragon cannot sting you anymore
Cannot sting you anymore.
a little poem about recovery
Feb 7 · 56
Surface searching
Dominique Feb 7
What's in a human
A scattering of bones
With puppet strings worn thin
Spellbound to earth alone
And miles and miles of skin

What's on that skin
An architect's drunk paths
Bombs exploding by touch
And clumsy human marks
From broken hearts and such

What's in those hearts
A cracked kaleidoscope
Search parties for the blind
Through knots of living rope
The core of humankind

But what makes a human
Beyond sunlit plasma,
Mind hatchlings that enthrall?
If the deities scoop darker
Would they find anything at all?
An exploration into you
Dominique Jan 28
Beyond the sunlit smoke and spellbound parks,
Beyond the tongue tied smiles and piercing dark;
Beyond burning wrists and icy stings
Beyond poems that made love to awful things;
The story is painfully simple.

You really loved someone;
Someone didn't love you.

How charming it is to love without profit.
Inspired by a poem called "Beyond the Clutter of Poetry"
Jan 26 · 131
Dominique Jan 26
You are as frail as summer rain
That shines across the windowpane
At night when moonlight cracks the screens
Of safely organised routines

You walk across this tight rope bare;
Your bleeding feet flail in the air
And when it's time for you to fall
The thunder crackling says it all

I've seen you hanging from the sill
Conducting sonnets in the still
Equipped with broken pens and such
And silhouettes that don't mean much

But if by chance you do perfect
The heinous thoughts your words reflect
They'll spy you swinging from the rain;

A bleeding, screaming hurricane.
Humanity is a mess, but it is also an art form. Look after each other.
Jan 26 · 105
In bloom
Dominique Jan 26
You cupped my thorns
And spoke of flowers
Like posies sprung inside my mind
And now I've sworn
By pavement showers
I'm never leaving you behind

Through peach-soft groves
We wander lightly
Watching azure skies balloon
Then like a rose
We unfold nightly
Singing warmly to the moon

And in the jungle of my room
We always fall asleep in bloom.
to my very best friend
Jan 23 · 105
Rosy Villanelle
Dominique Jan 23
You are a blank rose doused in wine;
Too thrilling for my pen to hold,
You shed your petals in my mind.

I want to freeze your face in time
But flowers blister in the cold-
You are a blank rose doused in wine.

My morning sunshine makes it fine,
Repaints the waste in liquid gold-
You shed your petals in my mind.

I'm veering off the railway line
Grasp out for hanging vines to hold;
You are a blank rose doused in wine.

The thoughts dissolve in seafoam brine
As if my memory's been sold;
You shed your petals in my mind.

But I still hope to find a sign
A crumpled map into your soul;
You are a blank rose doused in wine,
You shed your petals in my mind.
I tried to write a villanelle haha
This was pretty fun
Jan 9 · 254
Dominique Jan 9
Glitter on lips
Doesn't make your words fizz;
They land just because they're free
Manicured nails
Don't allow me to play
The keys are responding to me

Silver and gold
And confetti are sold
With cartoons of sunlight pledged
But look past the sheen
And remember you've seen
The gods from a bookshelf ledge

Glitter on lips
Won't attract fingertips
Your lovers will come to you
Manicured nails
Yet we're still off the rails
But its perfect because it's true.
This website is full of real people and emotions. Keep being genuine in everything you do and write <3
Jan 1 · 133
Dominique Jan 1
Writer's block
But sweeter
Tantrum sky
But brighter
Shaking hands
But softer
Racing heart
But lighter

But kinder
Shifting grass
But greener
Buzzing blood
But calmer
Skinny wrists
But cleaner

Warmth and hope
Like in this letter
I'll take the pain
But I will be better.
2019 will be incredible <3
Dec 2018 · 106
Ferns and my hands
Dominique Dec 2018
Pixie dust behind your eyes
Watercolours when you cry
Your lashes scatter all the light
And droop like blossoms through the night

Pay a plant to sweeten air
Stress may choke but lungs don't care
Your mossy throat can water earth
And soil is all that your money's worth
Of course

Kiss the steam before the cup
Fill the corners of you up

And when you're caught,
Don't lose your head
If brick loves bleeding
Trust paper instead
If you can

Choose the storm before the rain
Cram your soul to full again

And when you're here,
I lose my mind
If we're wide awake
Then love can't be blind

Comet rust around your nails
Tipping smoothly off the rails
Your laces trip on bits of cloud
When idle floating's not allowed

****** a cat to thank the streets
For the wonders that you meet
And drowning sleep is not what sells
But I owe life to those dimple wells
Of yours

Learn the dance before the beat
And I'll always save your seat

So when you're back,
Don't be dismayed
Your cells have a purpose
And your dad would have stayed
If he could

Choose the first flavour you like
Even if it's not so right

And when you're here,
The stars confess
They're loving the distance
To earth so much less
For your eyes.
Nature is a delight, and so are you all <3
Will come back to edit some parts of this
Dec 2018 · 63
Dominique Dec 2018
The unfettered wind
Flaunts its ribbons outside;
Its wine tickled leaves
And the journeys they hide
It pulls me to play
With a glove on my hair
Buffets me away
To its storm-peaceful lair

It secrets my time
Drags the sun to my feet
But 4 o'clock twilight
Is no way to meet

So I zip up my coat
And it loosens its hold
Though winter entices
I fight through the cold.
The wind's picking up.
Dec 2018 · 244
Dominique Dec 2018
Taste the sunlight
Wrap up in the golden thread
The 40 carat golden thread
That leaks like honey on your head

Feel the sunlight
Open up to gamma streams
The seeds of life in gamma streams
That donate such vivacious dreams

Be the sunlight
Buoy the dust motes with your smile
The guileless, butter-melting smile
Illuminating clouds a while

And linger amber in the light.
When all else fails, turn to the warmth within to drive the shadows out. <3
Dec 2018 · 263
Dominique Dec 2018
You are stained with wine
I am full of ink
You ***** and singe my mind
I don't know how to think

Your girls paint me green
My veins pound with you
It's mortal and unclean
I don't know what to do

You are stained with love
I unwind in hate
There's angels up above
But they're all way too late.
get out of my ******* head.
Dominique Dec 2018
The paper cuts
Breed like the plague
The piano keys are curt
The tune is turning vague  
Life has jammed salt
Right down my throat
So I scrub my tar soul
From the lyrics I wrote
Every night.

But yeah, I've been alright.
um, hey.
"so? what's been going on these past 2 weeks, 4 weeks, 2 months? why haven't you been speaking to us?"
it's just our paths, you know? they never cross. i barely see you.
"i see you all the time, but you're always talking to other people."
i could say the same for you
"so what's been happening?"
i stopped talking to 2 of my friends.
"nothing much really. nothings been going on. well, there was something, but i cant remember so it probably doesnt matter."
let's make up for it. meet up?
maybe we needed this.
"what are you suggesting?"
too much of a good thing is too much, right?
"yeah. like *******."

and then we laughed.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I never once said I was sorry, which is a new one.
But i am.
I miss you guys so much.
Dec 2018 · 347
Don't go, because
Dominique Dec 2018
Because if you leave
I'll have to dedicate every word
To the mischief in your eyes
Manifested as a glimmer paired
With that confident smile that paints
An equal grin on my face
Or the art of hugging
You've pretty much perfected
And the warmth of your arms
When you tell me it'll all be alright

Or the crazy dancing you do
Alone to indie in your room
With a half starved body
And an overworked mind full of stars
Or the powerful way you debate
And the technical tweaks in your work
You never stop making
Because perfectionism matters so much

And I'll have to write about your peeves
Like the clicking of an anxious pen
Or the tapping of uncut nails on desks
Or how you refuse to end on an even number
Despite that being the obvious norm.

I'll have to entwine every twirl of your DNA
Of the things you said and implied to me
Of the cherry *** blush in your cheeks
And every strand of our jumbled conversations
Into infinite books of poetry
If you leave.

And that would be a shame
Because you hate poems so much <3
I love Noemie too much to let her go away. She's slipping but she's still one of my favourite people on the planet.
Dec 2018 · 90
Hot air rides
Dominique Dec 2018
I hover in my red balloon
(heated with smiles, blurred, warm)
Too near to the cliff face.
It is blue;
Its creases are the folded poems
That I threw out months ago
Damp with tears cried over you.

I hover in my red balloon
(patchwork, fragile, fuelled by stars)
Still aiming for the moon
Summoned swiftly back to Mars
But it's hopeless-
Oh clouds of iris,
The great giants blocking flight
Like glaring tree roots in the night
That won't let human freedom sail.
I try to float,
But I'm derailed by the cliff face

Whose features share the traces
Of darkened sin like black coffee spilled
On maps that twists the human race
Into a blade no Love could build.

I hover with a frowning face
Next to the cliff edge.
We reflect each other;
Violence under a cover
So ****** that I scream to stop.

And then it works-
My balloon pops.
A poem about disillusionment, I guess.
Dec 2018 · 122
Dominique Dec 2018
You are the cosmic rays that dance on my face;
Such a soft yet powerful death
Heralded by the fallen angels and wrapped
In gift bubbles of soda and smoke.
Sometimes, you are imperceptible,
The passing pollution that whistles in my ear
And settles slyly in my lungs.
Sometimes, you are background noise
A power plant I have no use for
In a world so driven by sunlight
And I feel I have shrugged off your load...

But then the earth shakes
And your nuclear explodes.
He always appears at the weirdest times.
Dominique Dec 2018
One inhalation of the sky
To separate the murky sea
And reassure you as you cry
The clouds still hover by your knee.

Two puffs of moonlight left behind
As products of the midnight rose
Then let your sorrow be refined
As angels let their weak wings close.

Three champagne bubbles of a laugh
A courtesy sent by a friend
A flash of lightning in the dark
Like vaulting over to the end.

Step four is harder than the rest
As it depends on nature's strain
Abandon sunshine on your quest
And wallow in torrential rain.

And halfway there it's number five
And rhythm marks a saddened truth
A little song to drown alive
A beacon in such inky youth.

A devil's dance at number six
Invest in favouring your greed
Some crime electrifies the mix
Prioritise things you don't need.

At seven let yourself break free
And choke in sympathetic arms
Unscrew the lock and break the key
Because your friends contain some calm.

Except, at eight you'll be alone
Reciting old quotes that apply
And spending hours on your phone
Relating till your eyes are dry

At number nine then, here it is
The scent of fear that smells like grace
You tune your blood to lightly fizz
And brush the tears from off your face

Ten gashes end the whole ordeal
Of shortened breath and shaking hands
Though sunsets bleed the way you feel
No one else will understand

It's not a choice, it's a command.

Now your mind is stressing less
You've cured the chaos with a mess.
(Please don't follow number 10)
Dec 2018 · 567
Grey days/Grade As
Dominique Dec 2018
If pills are popping
I'll give them a try
Stuff light in my pockets
Let paper planes fly

Rain falls, so why can't I?
Oct 2018 · 2.0k
When it rains, it pours
Dominique Oct 2018
Droplets tap the dusty windows
Tipping pleasure on the pane
Dribbles every time the wind blows
Prophesize a hurricane

Kisses linger on the backseat
Desperate to delight in more
Suffocated by the heat, but
When it rains, it starts to pour

Panic storm that quickly closes
Smashing waves upon the sand
Tension tearing up the roses
Stuttered poems, shaking hands

Though the pressure keeps you floating
And the ocean licks its shore
There's no way of sugarcoating
Once it rains, it has to pour

Stick a finger in your ceiling
Let the plants hang onto youth
Sunday jazz, petrichor feeling
Hear it tripping on the roof
Smell it shifting all around you
Leaking through your drying veins
Leave your stagnant dragonfly blue
Open up into the rain

When it rains, it pours
I'll blossom being yours

Downpour cleans the ***** traffic
Rippling madly down the drain
Paints the artist something graphic
While he's waiting for the train

Laughter echoes in the morning
Licking soil and clouds to raw
From the vision that's been dawning
Once you rain, it has to pour

Spitting bombshells pelt your raincoat
Tears in quiet pools of green
Holes inside your getaway boat
Water's sweet but can be mean

You've avoided all the warfare
But the stars rampage for more
Douse the thin comfort you still wear
Once it rains, it starts to pour

Stick a finger in your ceiling
Give the plants a thirsty truth
Fairy lights and freedom feeling
Tunes of our torrential youth
Smell it changing all around you
Bursting through the shrivelled veins
Leave your crippled summertime hue
Open up into the rain

When it rains, it pours,
I'll bloom so much being yours
We're a perfect storm, I guess
Fire has been stopped with less

When it rains it has to pour.
Rain brings change when we most need it
Oct 2018 · 209
The lost boy
Dominique Oct 2018
There once was a boy
Who smelled his future in the pine leaves.

He kicked up ice like it was glass, weaved cleverly
Through the loopholes in the rules with easy laugh,
Staining windows ecstatic with his smile,
Working up a masterpiece of a life
That made the soil soften as he pelted across it
Hiding from rain.

That boy had his difficulties, like the October sky
Has its fogs and sunken clouds
But the sunshine loved him then, loved his olive eyes
So he was always forgiven in the end.

I imagine that life felt, all at once,
That this angel had taken too much from it.
After all, you can't be beautiful and happy at the same time.
Perhaps Fate saw him as a thief masked in evergreen,
Picking life's treasures up like cheap marbles
And running away with them as fast as he could.

It did not matter in the slightest that he created good
Out of triumphs and charms that could have gone to waste;
Easy life was over, and the maliciously fanged beast
That forced itself into his old friend's place
Did not enjoy golden smiles or childlike contentment.

So they took his father,
Like the eastern wind takes the sand from the desert
And spits it into the traveller's eye.

That was, I am told, the beginning of the darkness.

I met him, idly wandering on my own path, a few years later.
The pines had turned to ash and smoked instead,
But light still sweated off him in waves
And not even the thickest coat could conceal it.

He turned liquor into water
And sadness into an emotion I could have lived in forever.
He turned bored, grey words inside my mind
Into a rainbow of colours I could use to paint his portrait
On a notebook page.

I lost him a little while ago, and to this day I'm not sure what will become of him-
But I will forever hold a grudge against the Universe
For taking him away from me too early because of passion
And for concealing the bright happy boy
With the death of a loving father.

Life isn't fair.
Had the Little Prince lived on Earth, maybe life would have done the same to him.
Oct 2018 · 404
My magic box
Dominique Oct 2018
There's thick wads of paper
And dribbling pens
There's fishnets still waiting
To catch me again

Oh, save me from my magic box

I used all my matches
The lighter's right there
There's plasters that blister
And memories that glare

Oh, save me from my magic box

Cigarette butts and candy apples
A pack of pills to help fight the flu
A sharpener cracked, unwrapped, uncaring
Stolen matte lipstick and
You, you, you

Rewritten essays and rusted skates
Discarded Daim wrappers from sad days
Collections of posts that I'm never in
Ripped soda bottles and
Miles of skin

Oh, save me from my magic box
Heaven knows I've lost the lock
No contentment shares the key
I guess that's that for magic me

Break me out my magic box.
Tragic ******* magic (God this is so bad sorry)
When I was in primary school I had to write a poem describing the contents of my magic box
Back then I didn't know dark magic is just as valid.
Oct 2018 · 86
Ode for Scary October
Dominique Oct 2018
October is chapped lips on burned coffee
Ashes on ashes as fingers entwine-
Ah, October, a familiar tightening of chest
A blue siren sparked by paranoid fire
A dream, a whirlwind
Ending and beginning in horror so thick
You forget life offers cherry blossoms, too.
Bring me a ***, you say,
Your lungs have never tasted as black
And the lack of light ignites the desire
To fill your getaway backpack with flame.
People oblige in October but this scares you too-
Smiles are lullabies for the apathetic and dying
You'd rather be alone.
October is songs by the Smiths and stolen jumpers
Fading scabs under fingertips
Lost compositions and badly held chords.
In short, October is ******* terrifying
And you're so used to it that it almost feels
Like home.
This is one I wrote ages ago but nonetheless true
Oct 2018 · 877
So, Space Exists :)
Dominique Oct 2018
The universe bursts and expands
I'm shaking but you grab my hands  
I know we've looked stars in the eye
Our galaxy minds never die
She smiles 'cause she loves all these words-
A romance story I've heard
I'll bet she sees sunsets just right;
The moon's invitation to dance with the night
The universe quickly expands
Like my trembling heart in your hands
There's warm supernovas that spring from your chest
You're vibrant and lovely-
I wish you the best.
An (old) rhyming poem for those who prefer it that way, about all those individuals who bring the milky way down to earth
Oct 2018 · 82
Dominique Oct 2018
Nobody likes a poet
Unless we are artists too-
Whip out a sketchpad
And they applaud your world in vivid colour,
But a notebook makes them groan and turn away-
Life has no time to waste on art when it is disguised.

Nobody likes a poet
Until we can put our words to a melody line
That they can hum along to carelessly,
Misquoting our words in their captions
Like the gist is all that matters.

Nobody likes a poet
Until the occasion calls for a word or two-
I've heard we are a prominent feature
Of funeral eulogies
And Hallmark valentines cards
Bought for a fiver at most.

Nobody likes a poet
Because we holler
Without ever opening our lips
About the fire we see
Turning shreds of divinity to ashes;
The apocalyptic prophecy rolling out before our eyes
While they open their minds to the smoke.

Nobody likes a poet
Because the erratic passion we share for life in the present
Doesn't suit their visions of a future cloud nine-
Alternate endings to played out love stories
And whirlwind romances with rain
Are unnecessary in their templated narrative.

Nobody likes a poet,
Because we are obnoxious and immature,
Timid and hard to approach,
Arrogant and dismissive,
Clingy and strange,
Eccentric and hysterical-
Comic book characters
That were never supposed to spring to life-
We are inappropriate
In every sense of the word,
Because we refuse to feel
Through a blacked out window.

Nobody much likes a poet-
And why should they?
After all, the poet doesn't much like
Ohh, I'm going through writer's block, which means all I can put into words is stuff related to poetry (which I can't write at the moment- love the irony).  Anyways, I love this website and I love the poets on here (so so much, you're all super talented woww)- sorry for the negativity, just been a **** few weeks. Hope you're all doing well <3
Sep 2018 · 1.7k
And no wonder I like words.
Dominique Sep 2018
Sometimes, I am a paper girl.
I look in the mirror
To judge my blotches and creases-
I am a pale, thin tissue
That bows to the howling wind
Transparent for anyone who cares enough to look.

If you like pretty pictures, I'm the one for you-
A roll of film scratching laughs
On curious cinema screens
That could run into infinity
Just to fuel your smile.

I soak up your messes willingly:
All the colours that bleed and mix
To form the specks of sadness
In your eyes at 10.p.m
And the grass stains that roll
Down your bare gypsy feet
And the sunflower seeds
That stick to your inky lashes-
These things give an echo of the flavour
I miss.

I am vain
I regularly conjure up poetry on my skin-
Do not give me yours.
I will recite it to my last paper breath
So I can kid myself that paper is power.

I am not the phantom you teach to play piano
Under the helter-skelter moon,
I am far too fragile for that-
My paper cut fingers bend
And bleed light all over the keys.

My hands are a canvas
For anyone's ***** details
For if enough titles are painted on my body then perhaps
I will learn the complex trick
Of gaining depth

And maybe the world will look as full
And real as I read in books
And dance with in music
And maybe my edges will stop being ripped
Or my corners cut
Or my pages burned and tossed aside.

Sometimes, I am this tiny
Origami creature
And my cream card bones tremble like feathers
A bad caricature of life.

Sometimes I am full of wonder-

But right now, I am this.
I tried to put this awful blurry feeling I get when I'm lacking in creativity and motivation into words, and this is what I got.
Sometimes I feel so alien.
Sep 2018 · 93
toxic commitment
Dominique Sep 2018
She is committed to art
She listens to neon music
I watch it paint her body fluid
I watch the red splotches of pleasure
Travel freely around her soft face
That angular chin that juts stubbornly out

She is committed to art
She rips her jeans every month
I watch her knees peek out
I watch the band tshirt crease
Around the clay curves of her body
That respond to warm caresses

She is committed to art
She drinks stars far too often
I watch them turn her eyes gold
I watch the jaded speck settle forever
Lighting up her eyes in toxic
That laugh that bleeds into a sob weekly

She is committed to art
She looks nice in cross hatch
Red and rough and tragic and real
A bohemian rebel without a cause
Ripped skin and singing veins

Who says life doesn't imitate art?
! Self harm is not beautiful
Sep 2018 · 1.8k
twilight dreaming
Dominique Sep 2018
Hey, my love on a far comet,
It's a golden sun kissed 7:42
I'm eating figs, bruise purple,
Plucked from the fridge,
Dipped deep in you.

Hey, my cosmic queen of hearts,
I've been an ocean since peach cloud 8:00
Full of oysters, strange deep gardens
Growing for you,
Eager to wait.

Hey, my bourgeois madam,
It's a bit past 8:15
I'm hearing birds, chirping blue,
And holding you warm,

Within this dream.
she's far away but sunsets bring her closer.
Dominique Aug 2018
The language you possess is golden,
But can you write your head to life?

I mean, ~r e a l l y~ write it,
Crazy chemical exchange and all,
And everything that seeps through your grey:

The purple bruised aneurysms and pains of the future
The tear stains on cherry stone cheeks
Obsidian nightmares that dissolve with dawn
Euphoria that coats anxiety in amethyst
Cerulean daydreams with clouds of crimson dust desire...
(and on in a similar vein)

/Do you really think you can capture the impulses
In a creative block of thought
That bleeds with careful logic into
Even better structured paragraphs?/

Ignore the sense of rhythm
Your heartbeat has been given,
Calculate natural flow,
Fragmenting with algorithm,
Slapping on the semi colons;
This is what writing is to you?

Irregularity is the basis of thought-
Ignore it if you must, but don't spit scorn on it either-
Poetry does not try to make
Sense of confusing speed,
Poetry tries to give it a voice.

Give into that just once!
I know a girl who is very talented at writing essays, debating and creative writing- we compete with each other at English...
But she keeps saying she hates poetry because it's just lines cut up randomly and when you say it like that, poetry is pretentious.
What she doesn't understand is that there's a lot more to the art than just that.
Aug 2018 · 1.3k
Dominique Aug 2018
I know the toothless women
Who crumple on the streets
The rain bleeds through their cardboard,
The cold drips through their feet

I know the dying children
With anaesthetic arms
The angels crowd around them
With time that burns their palms

I've hugged the brainwashed gangsters
With money drenched in blood
I've heard their broken weeping
While digging up the mud

I've seen the starving faces
Of the tired girls at home
The broken, hectic psyches
That eat them to the bone

I know the burning poets
With a desperate thirst for life
The need for finding soulmates
That pierces like a knife

There's weary public servants
Who risk their lives for good
And prove compassion every day
Yet stay misunderstood

Human love is buried
Beneath the plastic weight
Of angry allegations
And a world that feeds off hate

These people may be messy,
But they're beautiful and real
With hidden dreams and secrets
And ability to feel

We have a place to run to
With lights of peach and gold
Where all the weight is lifted
And all our tales are told

We live in total freedom
So safe beneath the moon
And though it seems ambitious
Our dreams will save us soon
The night brings comfort to those who need it most
Aug 2018 · 3.3k
Choose me
Dominique Aug 2018
I'm sorry that I want you mine
To scorch your lilies and your truth
Watch water smoulder in my hands
And dance you through torrential youth
I understand it's not your way
To let me crumple unfilled sheets
Rewrite your song with overdose
In moral grey where concepts meet

Your brown eyes and dimples
Are worth a disaster
The moon's full at noon
And the sunlight won't matter
One little taste and I'll
Keep thought at bay
It's funny, ***** money
And don't run away

I might be shallow and perplexed
I'll still soak up what's in your head
And pull you from the liquid sky
And wrap your eyes in arson red
'Cause I'm more jealous than you know
Drown cobra smiles in pools of fear
And I will catch you twenty stars
We'll hitch a ride and sweeten beer

Your brown eyes and dimples
Are worth a disaster
The moon's full at noon
And the sunlight won't matter
One little taste and I'll
Keep thought at bay
It's funny, grab honey

And promise you'll stay
Aug 2018 · 218
I am also a we
Dominique Aug 2018
I want to step out of myself
When I'm lying vertically on seaside rocks
Staring at the place a full moon should be
On the azure petal of a bright sky at noon
Because it would be easy, wouldn't it?

Join a different subjective reality,
Step into an opposite consciousness,
Without this heart that loves too clumsily
(It may be gold, but gold is heavy)
Without ****** desires or the weight
Of sparkling sins like bubbles in champagne
(Come on, girl, think of your grades)

Who's to say we're not a film?
A rattling picture show that keeps skipping
That lasts too long but is never enough
All I want is to have the chance to remember

That I am also a we

That I feel and I'm not alone in that
That we think therefore we are and we are therefore we think
So I try to step into the clouds
And find myself shackled to the ground
On a beach in August without sand.
sonder-  n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.

inspired by a conversation I had with two friends in Brighton about how our consciousness creates reality and how we're all connected <3 I often wonder how it would feel to live someone else's life for a while.
Dominique Aug 2018
Tenderness, right? Oh, god, let's talk about tenderness. (Or, at least, let's try)

The place in my strawberry heart that she holds
Is a soft, private cove full of light

(You know the sort
The warm, rainbow kind of light that you can't touch
Or explain to other people who look at the rain
At just the wrong angle to see the waves burst open
The type of light that makes your eyes water
Till everything shimmers like it's coated in dragonfly wings)

And she burrows there in the malleable mess
Of sweet, tangy love that tastes of citrus and laughter
And wraps herself right around my pulse
So her magic is almost a part of my bloodstream

"Live with me," I often beg her in my mind
(Though we are fifteen, inexperienced and 5000 miles apart)
"I'll bring you chunks of the moon for breakfast"

And she giggles warmly against my veins
In this gooey, ******, selfless place I've made her
Where she can fall forever into the pit of my yearning
And watch me turn to sizzling butter
Whenever she's hurting

And I know my fixation is pointless
'Cause even if she loved me back, she's so, so far from the present
And moving on from this squishy, squashed chaos
Is probably the best move

But I can't fight this infinite tenderness
Nothing I do makes it ache any less.
Sort of inspired by Blue Is The Warmest Colour
I tried to put the feeling of tenderness into a poem oops
It is 6:36 am I'm not even sure what I'm doing here right now
Aug 2018 · 1.1k
State of emergency
Dominique Aug 2018
Honey and lies
Pour from your eyes,
***** off your skin
And try ours on for size.
If it fits, let it sit,
Let it settle down,
Then wipe off the dirt
And watch us all drown.

Oh, how hard to be trapped underground
Don't make a sound 'cause there's people around
And they don't want to lick our wrists clean
We drink up our syrup
And don't make a scene

Candy canes and you win alone
Sugar glaze and a mind of stone
Sweeter days and you send the rats out
To whittle us down to the bone

Lavender skies
And existing to die
Another world crumbles
And the internet cries
And it fits, doesn't it,
With the human frame?
We learn
We advance
We remain the same.

Oh, how hard to be watching them burn
A crisis returns and the leading man earns
And babies bawl and the gun shots are dire
But we get a thrill from fearing the fire

Candy canes and we choke alone
Sugar glazes and stomachs of stone
Sweeter lies and apathy comes
To whittle us down to the bone.
I'm not really sure what this is
Aug 2018 · 313
Summer fatigue
Dominique Aug 2018
The earth is tired,
I can feel it-
Slumbering in dried grass,
Scratchy like straw on a cat's head,
Wallowing in auburn fatigue.

The insects sense it, too,
Hovering nearer to ground
With each wafting touch of breeze
Which pushes wrinkled leaves closer
To looming autumnal suicide.

Still, there are patches of deviant green,
In a climate that has declared civil war
On itself through crackling heat-
And there's people, so many people,
Not dropping yet like leaves
In colder situations

But riding bikes with pulsing energy,
Yelling vibrant colours
Into dwindling, pastel summer evenings,
Kissing scraped knees and dancing
On concrete in bare feet,
Wiping brows outside cafes and bars,
Or lounging in the lull
Of spluttering sunlight and whistling birds.

Their energy is palpable, close, electric,
The beat of humanity just
Alone or in groups,
Laughing or sighing,
Filling the universe up to the brim
With our colourful garbage
And cluttered emotion.

Sometimes, I wonder why
We still gravitate to nature  
So easily and whenever we can.

Then I remember how similar
Our souls are to oceans,
And our brains to tree roots,
And our hearts to mountains.

Maybe sometimes, the tired earth
Needs us a little too.
Written under a tree with tired hands
Aug 2018 · 1.4k
Tracing the past
Dominique Aug 2018
I've learned to trace
The curves of your name
Through marks on my skin that were all too straight
And I've rubbed them raw-

Scarlet, aching, throbbing,
Irritated because of how many times I've dug my nails
Into the memory of you carved into my shoulder,
Or my wrist, thigh, hip...

The list goes on, and so do you,
Even when the licks of fire turn tamer, whiter, faded
With time that tries to give me relief but makes me
Because at least when it's all fresh,
I can hear your voice in my ear
And the cut of your jib is outlined by the cut on my... well, anything.

I want your fingers wrapped around my waist
But in my mind's clouded eye you pull away
Every time, and all I feel is rain drops on amber skin, and the blade grips ever tighter.

Normal girls who cry at night and not at sunset
Have stretch marks guiding their insecurity,
But I bet you've never been to a lido with your parents
After getting a new tattoo of a bitter I'll-never-know's name imprinted on your arm...

And if you have, well, you'll never tell me
Because even though I trace you every time I'm reminded of your seaside green glass eyes
I haven't looked the past in the face

Since the last time you said you'd see me soon.
Trigger Warning
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