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Mar 30 · 137
flowers and gums.
Nikki Danilov Mar 30
your aching gums would only want that.
I bet your girl would adore them.
breathe...because I know you are dying to again.
Mar 18 · 321
who gave you...
Nikki Danilov Mar 18
who gave you the right to give me life when I never asked for it??
and who gave you the right to cry when I stopped wanting it..
I am a human of interruptions.
I am a human that winds themselves into constant cycles.
It feels like I'm on a soft pillow and then a carousel surrounded of blazing fire the next.

Sometimes I want to rip off my burnt red hands of eczema.
Sometimes her smile stings me...and sometimes the world hurts too much like stretched open cuts and I feel like I'm crashing.

I can't leave and yet I wish to want to.
My wrestling violent thoughts in a competition of their own...
I cram my mouth of bitterness because it's sweet, like maple syrup.
But I am in a state of nausea right after, because of how bitter it all feels and oh so quick.
my stomach growls in constant emptiness. And I get clueless on what to feed it...

My manic moods change like the bipolar weather every winter.
I'm like a severe storm when elevated to the point of high uninvited irritation .... and and then I clear up exactly how a grey muted sky would when empty:
Empty with nothing to hold onto.
Do I hold onto the clouds?
...Aren't they like people though?
You grab onto them thinking they'll save you,
but you'll just pass right into them.
Nov 2018 · 132
Chasing Flowers
Nikki Danilov Nov 2018
I want to dig you open.
Ill muscled, you'll mend with me.
See the holes in my back?
They never close.
Would you want to know why?
Because every person I tell, their screaming reactions become "no".
I feel how every eye stares down desperately at the shovel in my grasped hand.
They beg me that If I forget then I'll forgive.
But it doesn't always have to be so that way.
We live in every seasons.
And exchange air into our mouths as they were words.
Oct 2018 · 186
Nikki Danilov Oct 2018
So when you think people can save you...
by the lace of their fingertips
or the beating of their heart conjoined in yours...
maybe it's because the reality exists
that whey were not meant for you...
weren't meant to save you at all.
May 2017 · 489
"The Better Angel"
Nikki Danilov May 2017
Oh how I despise you so
of your wretched curls
Spun of fine gold

Under damp sheets and course bones
that once took place of white wings
I wrestle the ****** within my dreams

Then my hands begin to shake
On the doorknob there hangs a burning ring
my heart finally flutters in a familiar ache

I know it is going to burn me terribly so
But I am far pre-occupied to care
To possess what was supposed to be mine long ago

I waft in it's warmth and beams
the pressure burning...burning my fingers
Maybe God could finally recognize me?

It's light dies out
No matter how high I place it on the tip of my head
It falls to the floor, miserably with a loud sound.
Apr 2017 · 361
She (2.13.13)
Nikki Danilov Apr 2017
I see lost dead writing,
As the children are sighing.
The swallows fly high
As I scavenger my way at night,
"O, my dear love where may you be hiding?"

The soil begs for me to use her as a blanket.
She senses by the tremble of my toes
That I have no other inanimate object to cover up my visage.

And then there was pouring rain,
All of my disguise washed away,
To and fro did I pace myself up there,
For whatever reasons now I have of no great care!

I shall never find her now,
Shan't the sky be ******?
For all the humility it has done for me!
And before she appears beyond ye
Do not let time turn her into grains of sand!
Apr 2017 · 683
Teeth (9.20.16)
Nikki Danilov Apr 2017
They ask me, why the teeth?
I smile and just stare back at them with amused eyes
Golden ambers, raging like fire that aren't so weak

Their legs shift awkwardly side to side
Questioning glances pin at my little open box
Little bits of white fossils shine with rusted blood that has long dried

Sharp ridges of the alabasters ends have worn out completely
So much denial, error and mistakes
So many years of biting, proving and screaming

I'm no silly child leaving my precious treasures behind
Under soft white feathered pillows
These sharp tips were made to cut anything under great pressure and pride

And without teeth I wouldn't be me
The older I have gotten, the more tremendous the wear
I still stare at all of you cackling from underneath the sheets

— The End —