Liliana Jaworska: Favorites

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

Bipolar Hypocrite

I pick up the broken pieces of my delicate heart,
Feeling the sharp edges cut my skin.

My blood oozes out my flesh,
Your name carried within.

You have poisoned my body,
So I bleed you out.

With every drop,
A kiss is left unfelt.

Dried out, it becomes scars,
Reminders of you,
And what you did to my once whole heart.

These broken pieces hurt like knives.
They burn my skin, redden it.
But only a silent scream escapes,
As I fall to the ground.

I lay on this deserted desert.
Only the cracked ground for company.

My thirst is unquenchable,
Since you are my water.

I'm far away from you,
Carrying this broken heart,
Watching it burn under the sun,
To red ashes.

My blood darkens,
Revenge cornering my mind.

But I love you,
How could you?

Slowly, I burn too.
I burn, with my broken heart.

Blood evaporating to the sky,
To heaven.

While I lay here,
In hell.

I clutch my heart,
Feelings the pain,
Loving it,
Since that's all I've learned to do.

My love is a metaphor.

My broken heart is a metaphor.

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

Happiness

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

Bipolar Hypocrite

Happiness

Happiness is...

Not being sad.

People compare happiness to many different things,
Then I forget what happiness means.

But I write the truth,
And I won't forget,
What happiness truly means.

:)

#truth #happiness

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

I Don't Know

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

Bipolar Hypocrite

I Don't Know

I Don't know anyone anymore,
It's like they've grown up without me.
I wasn't a missing link,
But only a useless one.

A glimpse of my world at the moment. There is a whole poem, but it's not something I wish to share. Yet.

My world has come crashing down my shoulders.
Smiling seems to be a sin.
I don't know anything anymore.

#depression

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

Wind

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

Bipolar Hypocrite

Wind

I'm sitting on a chair,
Reading someone else's life.

The wind blowing outside,
And I only wish for it to take me away.

The quietness of the room,
Isn't the one that I love.
But the one that I'm so used to.

My eyes dart from my book to my screen,
Hoping someone would reply.
A friend to keep me company.
Someone who is there for me.

But my eyes droop at an empty inbox,
I realize no one is.
They all have their own lives to deal with,
And I'm left alone.

The wind blowing
Everything but my mistakes.
My regrets.
The things I don't want.

I wish I were a speck of dust.
Hated,
Tiny,
Weak,
But so easily swept away.

I could fly away from a problem,
Without hurting.

I think too much.
So that's why I'm mad at me.

I was too blind,
To see that you were happy.

To rain on your parade,
Is the last thing I want to do.

I just want to make you laugh.
I just want to make you laugh.

But this karma
Of being alone I deserve.

I want a friend.
I want a laugh.

I want you,
To do that for me.

I think you are hurting.
But you are smiling.

I'm blind,
I can't see over my big head.

And I'm very sorry.

Please forgive me?

But I know you don't care.

I've just got a head too big for me to see over.

And I'm sorry for that.

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

Cautionary Tale

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

Anastasia Webb

Cautionary Tale

I'll be eaten alive one day:
one day, i see it in my mind
so close to closure along an empty street
late at night
(owls just retired and birds
not yet up),
orbs of light tethered to tall electric poles
cast dappled circles on cracked pavement;
illumination and safety
(for that two metre radius).

Stepping between them
like a girl child on stones
across a garden,
I anticipate each missed step
as sinking into sand or frightful waves.

Singing drunk back-alley lullabies
i'll soothe the skelebabies in their sleep,
their poor crusted noses snuffled against
a cold shift of air
(their private torment plastered over billboards
with corporate logos and dim colours,
suggesting the city's lights have gone out and
the local government is in frantics.
That is, after all, what you'd focus on)

Girl child games were so tipsy and magic
(and so close to real coldness);
between two orbs of light i'll slip
through the cracks
in the pavement.

THE END.

(eat me alive,
eat me alive,
eaten alive by the
wolf at the door)

#fear #tale #wolf #nightmare #imagine #ends #cautionary #radiohead #littleredridinghood

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

Snow / Memoir II

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

Anastasia Webb

Snow / Memoir II

lettuce forget just for
two hours that we just
met and really you could
be anyone, and lettuce
sustain our teenage
stereotypes, nourish them
with our shared saliva
by the fire -
we are cold and soft
like snow and we are
happy to share our
lizard tongues and lizard brains,
our foolish young
emotions firework in our skulls,
ricocheting against the walls.
sparks.

earlier i watched snow drift down
the chimney,
slowly melt, while ash
was propelled back up
by hot air:
neither sustained for long
in new environments, in foreign
air;
similar up-and-down particles
which i watched while
our hot sweaty hands lay open
like flower petals,
at our sides waiting.
someone had to move
(i did),
petals clasped together and
i noticed the warmth and roughness
of your hands.

i smiled and continued
to watch the flames.

#fire #romance #hands #you #snow #like #petals #holding #spontaneous #skiing

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

Saturday

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

Anastasia Webb

Saturday

Back in touch with virtual reality,
fingers caress the keyboard
and the screen
(the gentle, intimate touch of lovers),
plugged in the earphones and became
part of the circuit,
electrons zipped into one ear
and were discharged from the other.

Put aside the world for an hour
or two (lost track of time;
it flies when you spend it
with love interests);
drowned self in a smaller /
larger world of blue glowing
screens and perpetual music.
One thousand million songs.
Free. Click. Here. Now.

All you lovely strangers so much
more real than real,
so cool and artistic and how I
wish I could write poetry like you.
How I wish.

Open the door and observe:
the human component of
a full parallel circuit.
Exchange and exchange.
Fixated on a blank screen.
Tapping foot to invisible sound.
Typing faster than would talk.

Close the door.
Walk away.

#fake #screen #romance #reality #virtual #technology #connected #computermusic

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

Butterfly Wings

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

Anastasia Webb

Butterfly Wings

I have opened up my mouth
and taken out a spare pair
of butterfly wings
(pinched between thumb
and forefinger),
used-to-be-dusty but now
slightly damp from their
place of residence.
I dried them myself,
striking match after match
and holding each underneath,
close,
but not too close.

Instead of drying they
shrivelled up like petals
after leaving the flower.
As if to preserve warmth,
curling inwards,
they shivered, animated
by the heat of the glowing stick.

The flame got too close
to my fingers. I dropped it,
swearing. Pinched the wings too
hard (reflexes), the membrane
broke between my fingers
and the remnants
of freedom fluttered softly
to the ground.

#freedom #fire #lost #butterfly #innocence #wings #mouth #burnt #matches

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

untitled

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

Anastasia Webb

untitled

Write your poems about death.
(write ur emo-black-hair
skinny-wrist-white-scar
silent-back-of-classroom
ster-e-o-type po-e-try
about death)

Write your overdone morbid
imagery, similes
(write ur unhappy-heart
out-in-ink-onto-paper
arteries-bleeding-out
ur-blue-and-purple
octopus-veins-ur
ster-e-o-type po-e-try
about death)

#poetry #depression #death #self-harm #emo #stereotype

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

The Air That Consumes Me

Oct 2014 Liliana Jaworska

Nikol Alexis

The Air That Consumes Me

How do you explain
The notion of a breath?
Would you describe it as the ease
With which his cedarwood undertone swirled
In and around your nose? Or the satisfaction
Of having him set off every nerve in your core?

Perhaps a breath is simply the eagerness
To take him in; to be completely consumed by
His trace of leather and oak;
To inhale the taste
Of merlot and cigarettes
That dances on his tongue.

You crave
One more breath of his sweet
Perfume to ease the poison now
Filling your veins, your heart;
A wild fire in your lungs grows
That only he can extinguish.

He is the sweetest air and
You gasp for him,
But he does not answer,
He merely lets you consume him,
Selfishly, until he is nothing
And everything,
As your lungs continue
To reluctantly swell
And depress in perfect rhythm
With his beating heart.