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Apr 2021 · 598
The mouth of the thing
Odi Apr 2021
Man like monster with
A mouth as a spinning wheel of hands/
Prey between teeth

One game of chess away from losing my
Mind/biting my head off

Man like wolf bleeding between gums
Man looking like both survival and the gun between it.
Boy looking like boy in mans body

Another poem about falling in love with dangerous people

Failing to see how they resemble every single red light you’ve ignored

Leaving home
On the plane
In the car to the airport

My blood cold, my gut sucker punched into submission

Could feel the well of grief somewhere inside of me
Like I would just
And never hit the bottom

A penny in a well makes a sound
The penny inside me finally drops

And I crack like a mule at the whip
Like birds at dawn or spring

Staying up so late I never dream

The part of the puzzle I get wrong is; fitting everything inside out and calling it beautiful/
He tries to put it back together but I tie his hands back with my tongue
Call it a game/

One where I’m safest where there are no hands
And eyes
To hold me to my promises
Love me into submission
My failed potential

The shame that filled every corner of my body
How it grew till it could not fit anymore

The year of empty
How it became a  larger and hungrier thing,

Larger than the men in my nightmares.

The silver we couldn’t melt, whispers over a fever and forehead.
When adults are talking you pretend you don’t understand

But you keep secrets locked up inside yourself

I still dream of war
Have never been on a battle ground.

They call it generational trauma ,

I say,

You don’t know the hand holding the gun to my head
What the trigger is made out of is my own flesh and blood

There are things I can’t speak of

Things I will not say but this:

I was wearing a ruffled blue top with a unicorn logo and jeans

I didn’t have any hair down there

Then I did

I liked how it felt

and then I didn’t

There is no place inside of me that can hold these two truths and not split wide open

Like a smile

Like a wound

Like the rabbit finally caught up

In the mouth of the thing.
Feb 2021 · 316
The year I choked on love
Odi Feb 2021
The year I choked on love
The year I swallowed grief and it’s sharp edges
Tore ribbons out of my own throat
A sentimental offering to anyone  brave

enough  to bare their teeth
The year I let the boy hurt me for the last time
The year the boy hurt me, one, last, agonising time

I found out my brain is on fire

No actually medically on fire

The year I tried to juggle all the acts and ran out of hands
Out of hope
Out of rope to give
To tie up my loose ends

Like the four good reasons I listed not to **** my self, how they all had names and faces similar to mine
Like the bottom I didn’t reach
How hard I kicked to stay afloat

I didn’t choke
I didn’t choke
I didn’t choke
Jul 2016 · 1.2k
Odi Jul 2016
A marinate was played
Full of granite and fine rings
A bathtub of nosebleeds Danny and a bathtub of kings
All the cards that were dealt all the hands that we played pulled the curtain bell
Of my sleeve up to delay what I'd say and
All the cards we swept under the rug Danny all the music we screamed
From my sore throat and broken hands came the sound of suffering on a silent note in an empty room a bell jar and a piano and a single key being pressed in time to the sound of my weeping Danny
My friends ignored my cries
But here we are now with a new drum set and two sets of sticks for hands and we break everything we try to touch Danny thinking it can be played like the single key in that lonely room
Listen there are vultures in my throat in all my baby teeth and landlocked blues
I know that's the name of the song but I wanted to play it for you
Just in case you forgot I could sing out my suffering
And it doesn't sound so horrible now does it Danny
Because you don't know the story it tells
The blood diamond behind the curtain
Well it glimmers just as well
And I'm sure we can find a way to forgive ourselves for everything that was done
But I'm in a two step programme
Where everything gets reversed
And no I haven't slept in weeks Danny you're right I know I look like ****
I just haven't had time to think about what I'm putting in me
When I try to scream and I come up on a single static piano key
Listen there are ways we broke each-other and I'm sorry I tried
But the sound of my suffering
Doesn't mean waving goodbye
A poem inspired by a series of bright eyes songs.
May 2015 · 1.2k
Come in I dare you
Odi May 2015
Here it is
the poem on survival, the one you've all been waiting for
where I learned to untie the noose from my smile,
my smile from the trigger warning.
Here's your trigger warning:

I shivered when you kissed me.
I had a hard time believing my heartbeat was a good thing; had a hard time
believing the front door was still an option.
I wake up some days and remember when I used to sing bruises onto my skin,
fill up large towels with my blood,
watch it go black,
watch everything go black.
Still remained smiling;
still stood with the scars; with the ink between my teeth baring
a warning sign for whoever comes next,
for whoever wants my body without wanting my mind.
here it is
here is how i survived:

I hurt myself

I still do it just doesn't show
the scarring.
here it is baby boy come inside its about to get ugly,
you're about to see me cry,
you're about to see me shake,
you're about to find out what im really made of,
I'm about to find out if you break.

are you scared yet
this is a challenge you never step down from,
you brave boy!
you with your sword and white horse;
shining at the darkness inside of me; shining at the stench inside me ; come here,
make me feel whole.
Dont say I didnt warn you.
Dec 2014 · 1.4k
Fuck up
Odi Dec 2014
I am awoken by a nagging in my head
its in my mothers voice
the urgency,
I don't know what for, its 5 am.
my submission doesn't speak.
I fill the air with the sound
of my nonsense, a rambling of dreams,
"dont burst the bubble, burst the bubble, burst the-"
a never ending melody.
Because there is nothing louder than this, I have wanted to crawl out of my skin long before I knew it was mine.
And theirs, not mine entirely, composed of DNA so imperfect
even the gods would've laughed.
If you ever want to **** something up to the point its unrecognizable,
give it to me, look what I did to my own potential.
Squander doesn't begin to cover it, almost out of spite.
and i must stop it before it reaches my eyes
it has a certain way of clouding them over
and I just dont want people to realize
that I am swallowing a lump
at the back of my throat
what seems like forever
trying not to get my eyes to burn or
dig my nails deep into someones throat
just to feel their artery and scream
Then place the sharp bits of my nails
against my skin, hard
and not feel
I struggle with self control
especially with ***
and drugs
and alcohol.

I yell too often, never loud enough to make them hear me.
I am afraid of my own voice
telling people to shut up
Jack knows its not a good thing if I whisper
last time I did I said
"I don't have a pulse, I cant find my pulse."
Before I freaked out and smashed that vase against the wall
and laughed at what a sad broken cliche I have become.
My anger came out in sputtering sobs

And he tried to hold me
because that's what people do in movies
cue the background music
but I didn't let him because I was never any good at acting,

and he never got mad when I hit him
I can hear that "Sshhhh" at the back of
my ear
and I could wince at my own humiliation if I gave a ****.
I wont lie it was awkward he sounded scared
"aww dont c-c-ry"
thought I saw a tear there too
Im trying
Nov 2014 · 1.2k
Odi Nov 2014
He plays the the sound of a rainfall in Manhattan.
As he chases paper thin skin out of this sorry sob story
another fairy tale in his head.
I think you've had enough for today Alex
why don't you sing of pretty things?
Eyes like coals too dark to see,
do they stop your hands from strumming that guitar?
the tunes you play
the melodies
echo in the absence of your voice
and alex you taste so sweet
sweeter than the alcohol you use to get to sleep
I tell you one day the past will catch up with you;
but your smile looks like a well adjusted childhood.
Something were all surprised to see.
And yeah your fingers pour over the strings,
the only time they dont shake is when you play
so play for me
play play play
sing sing sing
dont stop
dont breathe
just play
A series of poems for the boys that have left a mark
May 2014 · 1.1k
Odi May 2014
I tell him about the 90 year old that made a home in my body.
Say "I feel more than the nineteen years, I feel more than your nineteen years."
He takes it as evidence towards what he calls my "superiority complex"
makes a joke about thinking I'm so much wiser than everybody else as I stammer with arms crossed trying to find the words my nineteen year old vocabulary does not know.

This has nothing to do with being wise you sonofabitch, its about an exhaustion that paints the dark color around my eyes and the sigh that lives in my belly you ******.

He interrupts, laughing "What do you mean? Your bones ache or something? haha hahaha." Loud, obnoxious, not the first time,
not the last. I want to say yes

yes they ache ad they creak
and they burn and so do my eyes and so do my insides and so do the words I say and the way I say them and the way it scares others when I say some profound ****, I almost sound like Gandhi, like Bukowski, I just never learnt of a beautiful way to disguise my pain. Not enough so It could sell.

I was better off alone when the ice made a security blanket around my heart-better off with no pain.
He shines a mirror on all my missing parts, calls me ****** up.
Stand next to me just to lean over in his height, superiority complex runs high among privileged nineteen year old straight males.

The ice thawed but he came with no gloves
I found the bruising less tolerable than the cold this time around
Less bearable than the lonely beat my heart learned to sing.
Its the same story he just repeats himself as another boy who says the wrong things and makes me feel
exhausted for every having opened up my icebox full of secrets.
Every conversation is an emptying out and not the cathartic kind.
The kind that leaves the ninety year old in me shaking with nothing left inside her but rotting gums and eyes that have seen too much ****. Nobody is supposed to make you this unhappy. This is not what I asked when I asked for you to make me feel something.
Every time I say your name Matthew, it almost comes out Nathan, in my head. Nathan with his accent, and the same humor, same jokes. Nathan the boy I emptied myself out to just so he could leave bruises on the uncovered parts. It was so easy to to leave somebody I never gave a **** about.

Matthew, I only say your name so often so I remember it, so I say it right, so I remind myself you are not the same person. Matthew sounds allot like Nathan when your drunk or sad which I am most of the time these days, you sound allot like him with your laugh, sound like your gonna leave bruises on all the parts I lift up to show you. I know this.

This is a fact. Like I know I wont ever cry for you until I'm all thawed out.
Matthew, for  your painstaking insensitivity, for your lack of understanding
Matthew for you not understanding all the creaking in my bones is just screaming

Save me
Fix me

Give me one reason why you're good for me because I cannot think of any and
*I so desperately want to
*** we started tags in hellopoetry too now? ffs
Odi Jan 2014
They kissed you with that mouth
Wrote books about you
Took pictures and hung them up for beer ads
For humans with high testosterone to ogle
While they ******* the top of a beer bottle
Like it will bring their fathers acceptance
Back into their eyes.
Your nine inched heels gave me whip lash
Your ½ inch eyelashes gave me heartburn
Your spit
Because they kissed you with that mouth.
And you still believe,

You asked for it

You still believed you were not worth getting out of the hood for
The hood
what good is the hood and the hood-rats

You ******* ***** in alleyways

All 10 of them lined up
said I might as well have the money upfront
If I'm gonna **** **** I'm getting paid for it

They bashed your head into concrete so hard.
You forgot how your mothers voice sounded like
Almost forgot how your uncles knuckles tasted like,
I don’t know your story
I don’t know your name
I don’t know you
I just know that your friend
And my friends
Last night
Came to the conclusion
That you were a ****
And you were asking for it
You asked for your head to be bashed into concrete
And hey maybe you did
Maybe you wanted something to hit you hard enough to make you forget
The hate inside
The misogyny you swallow
and wash down the drain
maybe you were there in front of 10 guys because you wanted to know what power felt like
what being wanted felt like
because you thought you were worth the money
but they didn't
because maybe that's what you asked for
because maybe your mother taught you to get high and surrender with glazed eyes
rather then take your higheels off and fight

because your laughter sounds more broken than you do
because your eyes hold remnants of your skull
because you remember the taste of your blood too keenly
because my friends, my female friends who are not evil or sexist

my male friends the protector of women
came to an agreement
you asked for it
put yourself in the position to
smell the inside of your brain
because your blood meant power
because finishing them off
meant swallowing or bleeding
and you did some of both because
maybe you chose survival
because maybe you came in kicking naked and maybe thats how you wanna go out with
another mans hands down your throat
some to aid air some
to constrict

weather you bleed or swallow you are only
emptying out

and I tried to explain that to your friend and my friends but
there is so much anger about what happend to you
and none of it is directed at the ten faceless penises.

Because you were once a chandelier of candles
And now you are a faceless light bulb hung on the moldy hotel building
Because your **** gives you free crack and
My friends have disgust on their faces
And I feel
Jan 2014 · 3.0k
Odi Jan 2014
March comes like a punching bag

March will bring her smiles like plastic bags
Some tear some don’t
You never know when she will glare her teeth like razorblades and bleed the snow
from underneath these fingertips.
Leave my insulation soaked, me; feverish.
And the joke is, I saw this coming
shivering the melted ice out of me she
bares her grin like a warning sign,
and I was either too brave or dumb enough to step inside
like a welcome mat made out of ice
and a cartoon dog
A scared pitbull, and a woman in charge.
The joke is that haha
There is no joke, you walked in.,
and made one out of yourself.
Out of the frost on your eyelashes and grief on your fingernails.
haha get it,
sweat her out like the coldest fever, without dying of shock.
Get it now?
She brings back the taste of firewood and comfort of flames when you needed it the most
Punches like the best punchline
hard enough to make it hurt
not hard enough to make you forget
Knocks the wind out of you.
a mother
a fiesty pisces
Odi Dec 2013
Fistfulls of dark hair in darker water
the expression is not beautiful
or ugly
just pure survival.
When hands do what they're meant to do
and you wanna tell him
"I just want to drown"
and you wanna tell him
"I just want to burn out" but
he manages to throw your cigarettes away
hide every sharp insrument in a drawer
flush the xanax down the toilet
he says blue is such a lonely color,
so he repaints your walls and you scream at him to stop
as the sun shines through mirrored curtains.
When you are broken you expect everything around you to  be broken.
White sheets replace black ones and he traces your footsteps back to the bathroom tiles,
smiles says;
"let the light in babe"
mistakes the fear in your eyes for sadness
you have no more room left for sadness
and he has no room left for empathy
running on caffeine and sympathy.
youll take what you can get so the nighttime doesnt have to be darker without him
hope he finds your notebook you place strategically ontop of a kitchen counter
because surely if he could read that he could understand
there are days darker than the ones when you chose to let the light in
it will shine on all your rotting parts
on your cracked canvases and too-full-dams
it will bring sight to the stink that is inside you
he will see
and if he cannot understand the terrror of that then he is not human
Odi Dec 2013
"The problem is..."
he drawls
"that it is'nt us who see people differently from you,
but you see things different from us. We are not the problem you are.
You see the basest humans when we paint majestic creatures,
we tell stories of superheroes with no faults,
we expect our boyfriends to mirror night skies in their comfort,
and speak like Kerouac. Kiss our scars like white girl tumblr pictures."
"People like you," he says;
"...Dont ever **** yourselves. You're used to the disappointment. Your used to kissing your boyfriends sweaty upper lips and smelling...just that. You clean up the puke on bathroom floors without complaining because you know what people look like from the inside. That's why your art will never be good. Thats why today in class when I asked you to paint a human body cut open, you drew a colorless man with his organs splaying out of him, and *******" he laughs..
"I have to fold petals into my boyfriends armpits just to stand the sight of him
our ******* is'nt *******,
its *******. Supposedly.
When I tell this story later,
I'll leave out the spit and saliva and how the human body
aint that pretty, especially *******. Even 6 ft 3 chiseled muscle of it, ill write metaphors about his eyes and similes to his fists,
you will tell us about the humaness of his breath and how
it annoyingly kept you up at night,
you will speak of storms but not of the ones in his eyes.
The ones in your belly
when he farts during *** and you will
describe every putrid detail, like the fact that waking up in the morning aint so pretty,
morning breath is something we dreamers leave out in movies. And, it must be exhausting
living here seeing things how they really are, but atleast when you expect disappointment, theres room for surprise.
People like me expect the good and are disappointed when its ****** on."
Nov 2013 · 1.9k
Odi Nov 2013
I wrote you a poem
Titled it gravity
For your lack of it
And how that made me want you more
Called the scars in your eyes stability
Those were the only things that remained
I am looking for sand to set my anchor on
This is how i just keep sinking
But you
You were fluidity in motion you were the
Once a week reminder that
Typhoons hit and people change
When my moods were changing tides
On the days my speech was so rapid and my eyes so clear it made everyone want me
Atleast thats how it appeared to me
But for the days when my arms drag me out to sea and you have a hand over these fists begging me to let go of these ******* bricks as you kick
Afraid ill drown us both
And i would
If it werent for the flight in your smle keeping us up
I pray you dont drop me for the wight of us both can be too much for you to carry
Nov 2013 · 1.5k
On the day you finally broke
Odi Nov 2013
On the day you finally broke
you let every bit of the control you valued so much, slip
And I loved it.

On the day you broke I pushed a button I knew I shouldnt have
and between your anger
I named your fear
"You're sccared." I said
Between your anger and your fear there was no more room left for
so you broke and broke down.
As broken down a control freak gets
Shaking, you spat out the saddest sentence I have ever heard
come out of your beautiful mouth
Hair crackled with the ferocity of your hatred you said
"IF. I could change everything about. MYSELF,  I would. My ****** zip code, my zodiac sign, every. *******. thing. The good, the bad, the ******* joyous and the ******* ugly."
You whispered the word "everything" as if I did not yet understand.

My father only taught me how to be a man but my mother taught me how to be a human being
And I too know how heavy armour wears on your skin
Even soldiers sleep
Even vikings take their armour off at some point
Even a captain removes his ******* hat
you sleep with clenched fists and gritted teeth
I havent heard you
or snore
you are
the one eye open on the door and I'm
the kitchen floor cleaner going back for more
ill unload your baggage
just  tell me where you left the ******* keys to the trunk
Letters to my exes
Sep 2013 · 1.5k
Odi Sep 2013
There is a never ending breed of bracteria livig in my bones
almost chews with the full intent of biting off but not quite, holds back just enough to leave me hanging
my joints, nooses of collateral damage,
almost wiggle like worms but burn with less intensity than pain.

There is a never ending wall of inter knotted muscle within my back

I call these things frustration
although alot of the time they feel like fury
make my neck ache like guilts burden.

I have ground my teeth to tiny sizable pellets and
picked at my charred white skin,
until there is no more youth in this body
all you will see is five foot seven of sallow eyes
pale faced
bloated frustration
if corpses smiled.

Untill my teeth are yellowed from coffee and cigarettes and the laugh lines around my mouth taunt me like the scars on my upper arm (if you are scarred just as painfully by laughter as a knife what is the point of it all)
12 inches of stitched back frustration that reads:

you cannot undo
what was done

   stitches I want i want to rip out in the company of polite
normal people and
smile at their disgusted faces

have you ever as a child
been so unhappy by what you put down on paper
you would scrunch the whole thing up after crossing it out in the thickest black marker
throw it in the bin and start over?

This is what living feels like
I am just a  canvas

I can almost remember what it was like to laugh
Sorry about the quality
havent been as peachy
Odi Jun 2013
The law said her body was made for love
The kind of love that wants to show you
just how much it loves you
by sticking things inside of you


Then slower

The kind of love that wanted to make the bible blush
make you quiver; the
kind of love when you put a female and male hamster together.
The kind of love that wanted to make music out of your ******

Love said "This is what happens
when you use
Needles to ingrain the words love
on peoples skin"

It feels a lot like pain did

Like when the first boy you ever loved
said I love you back
And proved it because he held you after
sticking sticky things inside of you
Like how he said hed wait untill you were ready
then said "You're gonna make me wait forever.."

How that guy on the third date said
"Come back to my apartament
So I can put what I want into you
Until you are empty
Because we might call it love"

Until you met a boy
who untaught what the word love meant
never asked you when you wanted to have ***
whose hands never roamed as greedily
searching for places to settle on your body
who didnt wish to make a home out of you by filling you senseless
and calling it his furniture
who traced outlines of constellations on the palms of your hands
and played
"Guess the Nebula"

Whose hardness never prodded you in the back
like a protest
in the early morning
whose breath always came easy
never hard
or fast

It was just holding you with no intention to

He said
"Love isnt what you put inside a person
In hopes of making it stick;and naming it after something beautiful
I can pin my thoughts on you but
you are not my canvas. That wouldnt be fair.
I respect your property."

There was nothing broken when he left.
May 2013 · 1.5k
To not being afraid
Odi May 2013
Your heaven has failed me
On the days when I felt loading up the dish washer was a
Personal assault on my psyche
Your god has-
Run me over with his fists too many times
And made me believe it was paternal pat’s on the back
All the-
Pain I was feeling,
You carry the gravel in your teeth
To make sure its full of grit,
When you speak,
I say;
“you’re full of ****”

You say im just weak for the things
That have made me unholy.
I am weak for the things that have unbroken me.
These words are shrapnel
You let them sink into our skin there is no more dirt to chew
I will spend my last moments
Holding onto the ******* noose
I’m going down swinging
And if that means I’ll hang
So be it
There are worst ways to die

I know
Because I’ve died before

Nothing special happens. Ya’ll can stop dreaming.

Kindness isn’t supposed to taste so bitter
Being saved
Isn’t supposed to hurt so much
Never knew how much the night sky despised the daylight
Until you moved to a country where it gets longer every year
You never knew how kind
The sun was to your skin-
Ive got tan lines where my noose used to swing
It took me three years to untie myself
And I still have scars

Whether they will be there or not in a few more years
I guess ill stick around and see just
How much ive
Odi Feb 2013
Because we both know the sound of gunfire
Except I, didn’t grow up in a war zone
It was a different kind from yours
Our bullets were words
Sounds of breaking glass
And the shards of which made it into my cheerios the next day
Chewed them anyway to spite
The sound that
Breaking makes

you know the sound of falling bodies too readily
  you can mimic them in your footsteps
The smell of rotting corpses
What kind of scars shrapnel really leaves

What the color of blood really looks like
I see that shade of red every time you speak
  The way you keep it hidden in those paintings
In the drawer that I sneak into when you sleep
Know too well what evil looks like

I can find a place for all the words buried in my chest
inside your bullet wounds easily

If I were not a coward

Staring into the dark irises of men in uniforms dirtier than their conscience,
Find it easier to look into a barrel of a gun
Only one of them holds salvation
No, you are not afraid of guns
Nor the sound that breaking makes

But I still remove the safety pin
Just in case
Odi Feb 2013
Men who look like ferris wheels
every color representing different aspects of their personality

The first three words don't have to be beautiful
they just have to make sense
like connecting dots on paper

men who love with their fists
and hate with their mouths
who once were boys taking things apart
like remote controls their own fathers used to beat     Obedience into their small bodies.  Left them with a fury tattooed across their hearts
Just to give them the challenge of putting themselves back together

They buy their wive's flowers after
a four day bruise isn't so glaringly purple anymore
not so accusing-
kiss her broken ribs
and tell their children midnight stories

children trained as mood detectors
human robots
know when to shutup
speak when you are spoken to*

Men who speak like cutting boards
Every slice of the knives in their toungues leave
hollow aching missing parts
just to teach their children that not all
things can be put together once taken apart

whose daughter glues together the parts of old telephones
to spite the missing pieces
so every welt he beats into her bones
she sings herself unbroken
until she stands robust and imperfect
there are holes in her armour
but she holds it together

with her fathers fists.
Jan 2013 · 1.8k
I am here
Odi Jan 2013
My boot prints leave train tracks in the snow
Because I walk with a shuffle
My parts are incomplete; I find

walking uncomfortable

No one step feels the same
But right now it’s okay
Because between three feet of snow
A moon so perfectly halved
Under a sky naked of its stars
I feel
As if my shuffle
Is graceful
As if my walk;
As if my steps
Are purposeful
Even if a little


I am standing under a street light in three feet of snow
Not feeling cold
Or alone
Even though its cold
And I’m alone
My mind
It does not mumble
My speech
It does not stutter
My hands they do not shake here
Am permanent
I am whole here
My veins
They do not show here
They are not vulnerable in their color
My heart
Doesn't skip a beat
My breath doesn't waver
here I do not hear
Ticking clocks in my head
I do not say clicking tots in my head
My speech is free of stutter
My mind as certain as these disappearing footprints
My walk, well
I still shuffle
The nausea subsided in my stomach
The anger let go of my throat
I watched a janitor clean the subway
from behind a wire fence that felt more like home
like freedom
than the four bedroom walls I share with my sister
Where I’m standing, cold grey concrete blocks don’t look like chains
The snow;
Not a burden

I am not a burden
Jan 2013 · 2.0k
They found you
Odi Jan 2013
They stuff cotton down your mouth
Because it’s the only thing that doesn't choke you
When they try to muffle your sounds out
But you scream with your eyes better than you
Ever did with words

It’s a sharp sound that hurts to look at
And you knew that contradictions were the best arguments
you said  “Arguments are the best way to show someone
How much you love them because
you are giving them your words
And that is the best thing to give.”  disagreement said “Or you could give em’
Some of your M&M;’s.”

They hung mosaics of your destruction on the walls and called it “Art”
So you punched a hole through your bathroom mirror and called it “Creation”
Spent the fourth day naming your shards “Zues” “Cordelia”. Saved the sharpest one
And called it “Helen”, said “Pain only ever hurts when its beautiful.” Disagreement said
“You’re a ****** up sadomasochistic *****”

On the fifth day you dreamt your father held you
Except it wasn't your father it was a ******* who found you
frozen to a street light
On the sixth day you called me and said: “I have a name for creation;
It’s destruction.”
On the seventh day they found you praying to the  images on a TV screen
Holding onto a mathematical calculation in your hand
Calling it the formula to happiness
The numbers spelled out

D   R  U  G  S
Odi Nov 2012
I know someone who finds solace in ballet shoes
                A boy who strums his secrets to guitar strings
Someone that spends his waking moments with glazed red eyes
             As if facing this world cold turkey
                       Isn’t even an option.

For boys whose fingertips shake
                Like the burning end of a cigarette
And girls whose smiles resemble
Car crashes waiting to happen
A cacophony of shattered noises
             And those of us who feel guilty for the
                     mere act
                           Inhaling air
                        And exhaling poison
So we spend lifetimes holding our breaths

   Until we burn our lungs out trying
            To warm our hearts
            With something other than the fire
           That burns out in a smoky haze

Until our eyes become rivers,
flowing oceans
That cry out a thousand melted glaciers

Our tongues speak ruined languages
We read everything backwards
Curse in Latin
Make oaths in Russian
So whatever we say sounds beautiful.

So that our hands wont have to learn permanence,
Oct 2012 · 2.4k
We lie here shaking
Odi Oct 2012
We thought we were shooting stars only to find out
that we were half broken meteorites
in our passage, in our wake, we learned how to speak
the language of destruction but we came together
with our bodies
sweat mingled with blood and something
I do not understand to this day but
know its beautiful.
I am eager to reassure as I press the panic button.
You are not starlight by the break of dawn in a colarado town where two teenagers find love.
You are a broken back on ice
A car crash demonstrating kindness
A drowning teenage girl in a lake in canada
you are the blood that drained him of life
my fathers kind eyes
and a whip so brutal not even
my thick skin could
So hear distraction in my tone
and paint it to the beat of your heart because
we lie here shaking
but I havent taken off my gloves
and theres a  whole nother round left to fight.
I dont think my finger tips can grapple with the weight of your mistakes
but if you tuck them neatly behind your smiles
I might be fooled long enough to believe you are
what I see
(Just six feet of kindness, pale eyes and a voice so sweet)
not another urchin
buried 10 feet under deep blue
We swim as eyeless fish and gag on broken nets
I caught you whispering to the swans about
a chicken or an egg
what comes next?
I dont know, what comes next?
As if there where a God in this tragic
beautiful place
Id tell you to swap your lies for love
and then laugh at your disgrace.
I know ive broken your nose before but
I promise this is the last time, because
I dont think I can stand to see the sight of a face
ruined by my own fishing line.
Oct 2012 · 2.3k
Odi Oct 2012
I am making a desicion
to clean my body of
your hollow whispered bruises
cracks in my diaphragm
your words left sizzling there
like acid that dripped from your lips
I forgot the deception that swam from your eyes
I have never been stupid
enough to believe
that you were only one
when there were three.
But we stood and watched that house burn
never feeling colder,
than we did that night.
Im sorry your brother died and took
your parents with you.
So you are an orphan that
demonstrated car crashes
in the mere rhythm of your hands
or melody of your speech.
But I find myself drawn to angry cobalt blue eyes
too often enough to know that
I cannot grapple out of your choke-hold
and frozen fingers will bruise me every shade of your
roaring ocean-like blue.
I can only admire the sapphire in your soul from a distance
and hope the red ruby rage turns to wine and not blood.
I have left my marks on too many wooden floorboards, pleaded with too many icy aquamarine eyes;
from boys with steel in their voices but a fury in their hearts.
Too many fingernails stuck between infinite spaces somewhere in houses
where the silence reminded me of the stillness of a teal lake in spring
your eyes are reminiscent of a grey morning I do not wish to remember
I will leave a mark here.
Sep 2012 · 2.6k
Odi Sep 2012
Continue to pound my flesh with your mistakes
You hold them so firmly against your breast
Some sordid reminder of what was done to you
What you failed to do
And words are sharper than your eye, mother
They hurt more than that razor I used
To cut myself
to make sure I was still made of the same thing you were and not steel.
You keep these under your breath hidden guiltily away in that
Cigarette pack
You smoke it and become vile
Like Brody did after drinking
You say things "you say" you don’t mean
But we know your eyes have never sparkled as
Alarmingly when
You spit at me that
I was a mistake
Should of drowned
Or been aborted
We know these things are true because they don’t echo off the walls
Like some insults do
They are swallowed by our silence and my
Dark oily eyes
I am careful not to show you any emotion
And it scares me
That we are the same kind
And maybe someday I will forget these words
Its a skill ive acquired over the years
But for now I know the memory
of the smoke coming out of your nostrils
dragon like
will be burned behind my eyelids forever.
Odi Aug 2012
The mirror stained with our memories, pictures
I am not in many of them
I count;
four pictures, we look happy
The bleeding sky was the only thing that gave  us release
Like the winter would fill our bones
and cigarette smoke would ignite the fire in our eyes
that had long since burned out
we lay on that floor on the balcony till dawn
talking about how
we will never be good enough and
life is pointless
I show her my scars apathetically
nothing effects
me anymore
My bubble cant be burst
surrounded by static
want to scream
yuodont finish jakc at 5 am
Aug 2012 · 4.6k
I only stutter when I speak
Odi Aug 2012
Wondering what made you fall for him
I can tell you're ashamed
Stop the car
We can talk, I understand
Sometimes we don't know what we want
Don't look at me like that
don't be sorry
You'll be plenty sorry later

Joey has these fingers
Fit enough for an artist
although he's just a dentist
but his boyfriend is a doctor
though he'd rather be an actor
They never speak of mothers
We all hate the children

The first time he will hit you
not hard enough to bruise
Your brain will turn on itself
He will blame you
and you will apologize to him

Tony holds his rage in his fists,clamped so tight
they're almost white
he rubs against his eyes
that almost look red in this kind of light
a restless leg that jumps to the stutter
of my own voice
the smoke escapes his blueberry lips
leaves his tense shoulders
ocean eyes sparkle with some unspoken fury
He has been wronged
looking bitter, old when he laughs
If it wasn't for his night-sky hair
This hour would be as menacing
as the glimmer of his smile

Fiona speaks disaster
spills from her like water
a sadness that cannot be washed away
her desperation is as sticky
as Coreys grasping fingertips
She walks in
slit shirt high heels
pale white breast's
gleam from both sides
We all know seduction
Forget to play envy
I dont have enough words to verbalize the rest
I feel stuck
Im gonna stop writing
Jul 2012 · 2.3k
Come on in
Odi Jul 2012
My attic is covered with devils skin
A layer of protection from
Fathers sins
We slaughtered those sheep
tied in the trunk of that ****** car
I was four and I remember how
scared they sounded and I could
feel their feet go numb so
I cut the rope myself-
And I did that for you too
Cassie I cut you down from your own
My neck hurts too Cas
sometimes when I wake before the light of dawn
I swear I can feel myself choking Cassie
feel myself breaking like you did
Except no one cuts me down-
Jeremiah you left a bloodbath
on the concrete floor of my back yard
I remember the butchers knife
Simple kind eyes,
And this seems so sad now
But images flash on and off
off somewhere

I have a coke-bottle full of secrets
I tell them to teach a man to fish
So he wont bite the hand that feeds him
They say let sleeping dogs lie in their
own spilled milk
We burned those bridges before we crossed them
So now were stuck on the other side of down
Some dull empty ache that
my drug of choice and music
Tries to fill
In this dull and empty town
Caressing this darkness with hands of purity
I tell them they will get their hands stained and *****
A kind of dirt that does not wash off
drive them crazy
Shakespearian tragedy, Odi
Lady Macbeth
Sit me down and scrub me clean
You have a thousand shards of glass
trapped right between your teeth
No one sees the blood
it runs a stream
Sleeps in your smile
I think Ive lost my mind
You carved hate into my ribs
with hands disguised as chasity
they wont find my painted red smile
here, there are only lonely clowns feet
and something that stinks
I'm stuck at the bottom of your shoe
Your dead weight passion
to warn you I am:
heavy enough to carry alone

I have a hundred confessions to make
Ive got a hundred things to...
Here we are again.
Jul 2012 · 1.6k
Nobody's girl
Odi Jul 2012
Fall into her hollow cheeks
what is left of her helpless hands
bleed her until there is nothing left to bleed
climb upon her neck until she cannot stand

Roll your tongue in and out of her mouth
Plant your lies securely in her mind
leave her without a doubt
until herself she cannot find

So you move away and tread on water
cannot mistake the ripples
like cracked egg shells you break them
so loudly they echo in your mind
these friends once dogs
scatter off to a better find
no more loyalty in the face of fresh meat
I don't blame the hounds the smell is too strong
and the ***** too good
My fault for trying to find solace with
guitar boys in bands
I will always be a once lost sister
they speak of nostalgically when they meet another sister
someone they used to know
I havent changed; they have this place has, it is no longer home.
It just smells like it.
find bullet wounds in my guts
I am spineless
I ride myself on cowardice and pride
I have blood alcohol of 0.5
Theres nothing left but
pride pride pride
Oh Theresa you carry your bible so well
your hands haven't aged in this golden state
the orpahn by your side could use a meal though
the smell of dead animals and garbage trucks and burning
nothing like smoke that has lodged its way into your throat
you cannot un-lodge the dark black sticky stuff
its poison
gun blasts
I thought I could face it
I am a child  of nowhere
Nuthin like comin back home.
Jul 2012 · 1.8k
Look it, mom! No hands.
Odi Jul 2012
I don't think anything
I don't speak or write
Never mention the silence
that this void leaves behind
and no one sees that
behind my eyes
because deception is brutal
though some people aren't killed
never even fooled
(such a pity)
**** them all
I stare at you all my circle of friends that I-
(or **** yourself)
and feel nothing for these blurs of people
They look familiar.
Thank god for the idiots that-
no hand prints by passing strangers
the Russian palm on the back of my neck
Eugine, Nikita,
big boys, big big big big big big
with big ***** and strong hands and broad shoulders
(look away)
god bless the ******* that buy you  gin and there's this miracle
in the form of something lyrical
runs like water tastes like liquor I
the lyrical melody of being so ******
off your ****
face, *** whatever you wanna call it-
I'm soberly contemplating switching the feelings off
Oh how it works
nothing but irises and going back home and kittens you don't bother to save-from
the streets
they all die anyway.
its a grown up kind of feeling
Laughter doesn't ring the same way
you bash skulls against the wall
On Leo's drum kit and you swear his eyes are a deeper purple than the shade
of your hurt
you don't care
cant find it in you to care
we are the same you see we dispose of those we need nothing of
so its okay I guess

I can judge you anyway though
nothing nothing nothing
no feeling
"the contours of your face as mysterious as the scars that lined your hands"
left a place back there as cold as daddy's coffin
they don't tell you that sometimes
you hold onto a little bit of childhood, like laughing at
people falling on their *****
now protect us against that kind of crass humour
Ill pretend to care
-but you'll see that I really don't
the restless way my knee jumps like
your heartbeat and eyes that swim over walls and
like a ski *****
left too many bruises
were all going down
and I just don't care any-more.
Ma, Ma--look what I did, Ma. Look what i did to my hands, I broke 'em.
You gave me the stone, gave me the chisel, didn't say how to hold 'em.
Jun 2012 · 1.3k
Dont need no fuckin help
Odi Jun 2012
eyes flicker in and out of conciousness
I stare daggers into walls
dance around chanting some heroic theme song
insert ****** babble
for those of us
who feel too heavy
like invisible chains drag across our ankles
and we hold boulders on our shoulders
that no one else can see
a curse taken from the japanese
or chinese
memory isnt one of our strong points
With razor sharp tongues we see people
sliced up
infront of us
shattering every pathetic little meaning of their existence
no remorse
turn away when there is blood
slice it up, we all have cuts
and bruises and certain scars
Ill paint my filth across these halls
and tell you about what a ***** little ***** I've been
Ill get real messy
and laugh when you call me a *****
for those of us who forget to eat
or want to forget to eat
know that , that weight will never go away
it stays at the pit of your stomach
you will never implode
always be at the peak of something like
a ****** that never happens
For those of us who drink too much
and laugh at how that sounds
because it really  never is enough
we have a certain kind of grit
that never leaves our colon
stays stuck in our intestines
we have a certain kind of fire that burns
its way up our throats and into our eyes
we speak like broken glass

I clawed my demons in the face
gauged out their eyes with my bare hands
I painted victory blood on that ivory staircase
Did my little dance
And then we tasted the laughter of children
knowing we will never again know how that feels
but spend the rest of our lives wanting to
get that feeling back
stare at the helplessness
in your empty hands
these hands could hold
and hit
and cut and stab and mash and grab
they  can caress, though
we break
You have to understand, this **** only comes when Im too tired to think. Sorry
Jun 2012 · 903
Odi Jun 2012
I stood stoic as they reeled your cold body in
It was only when I saw that your hair was still wet from your last shower
that I broke down
The coroner said he couldn't get your eyes to close
I said neither could I
Not even when we kissed
The ligature marks around your neck looked
like patterns that danced across your grandmothers hall
as we lay there arm in arm
Your laughter echoed off the walls
you told me how you wanted to be so small
and stare at the ceiling all day
that when you were a child you would fall asleep under your bed look at the marks the wood made
how if you stared long enough
some marks were even faces
or partial eyes
you said that you would never give up on me
well where the **** are you now?
Those covers echoed with the reality of our secrets
weighed down by our burdens
so take your knotted rope
for even in death
you look choked
here we are the same old story
me arguing with the dead
but we both know you visit me
in my dreams with open eyes you never get to sleep any-more
or breathe

I was angry at your blue body
for staring at me open eyed
with the same eyes that told me there was
in life
You are a lie.
such a ******* lie.
i dont even know
Odi Jun 2012
You dangle from the strings
of an invisible puppeteer
you sway from the knots he has placed
on the inside of your ears
the scars on your face
come to resemble a smile
I know that crash has left you defeated
but you will never know how much it hurts to see you dangle
for someone who wants to see a dead man dance
your inflated stomach and sunken eyes
sway sway sway
being held up by some cheap string
you look for a quick fix
You are held at the elbows that have nothing left to bleed
your feet cannot compete with the sound of music
that only you can hear
Do those monsters make you dance?
is there always music on?
I bet you wanna die
everytime you hear that song

Do you remember Kaycee's smile
the way she sung that broken tune
I bet you remember that black eye you gave her
when you thought the devil was in you

Because I remember going ******* 5000 miles an hour
on a cold dark rainy road
and smelling the alcohol on our breaths
as we laughed out loud at something
someone must've said

I remember the way the light was off
and waking you up from that gravel road
seeing pink and red all over the floor
Johns hand cut off from the car door

You cant revive someone who doesn't have a  brain silly...

Do you think of awful things
Or are you just a puppet
that sways
from invisible strings

So Dr Phil dont ******* sit there
and preach to me about denial
when you yourself
are still wearing that
pain-stained smile
Do not tell me what it is like to
let **** out
When I know you close your eyes
and still hear her shout
Dont sit there and ******* tell me
"the healthy thing to do"
When you tell yourself that healing
is simply seeing what is true

So you know Puppet, that we are guilty
as sin as sin can be
We killed we killed we killed a friend
we killed her, we killed Kaycee
John may shake your hand and smile with a lump in his throat
But you and I puppet boy know what makes us choke

You cannot bury a headless corpse.
Morbid but I don't give a ****.
Jun 2012 · 1.7k
Sing Birdy Sing
Odi Jun 2012
You look for meaning where there is none
in the crook of my collarbone or curve of my spine
or ribs you love to trace with your fingers
as if you could tuck your delicacy between the spaces intertwined by
nerve and muscle
As I breathe
you think your touch is all powerful
a healer
You look for beauty where there is none
in the curve of a smile
that rarely dances across my lips
as  if you could catch a fleeting glance and frame it somewhere behind your eyes
all you see is gold
fool's gold
brutally unaware that every-time you kiss the place below my neck
its as though you cut my throat open listening for the sound of a song I wouldn't sing
looking for words I wouldn't say
and they pour out of me
like the sweat from your pores,
in your need
You forget to be disappointed, when all you hear
is the sound of my gurgling
on all the things that threaten to rush back to the surface
Now your eyes have a tint of orange coloured bitterness to them
The promise of something sweet
that only sounds sour
Your voice holds a note of deception
your touch doesn't dance as delicately across my skin
I no longer make my tongue move to the rhythm of your lies
As if I could taste the words at the back of your throat
Worst of all
I think I like you better this way.
Odi May 2012
Take your medication darling you are no better
than the lies you tell
and theres a light inside us all
that only dogs can smell
-- even they get their skulls smashed in
In a house of glass of rubies and jewles
in a world where the sun doesn't set
I am blinded by the harshness
of it
too much of a good thing
is never a good thing
smell me now
smell me now
feel your
-something else that taste like the memory of you
because once someone is gone
they've never existed
not even your corpse
looked like you
now you sway from clouds
from that same noose you built of maple wood
and Tony's scars--- honey
baby please
but sweetheart
you know I hate those names
sweet pea
Put a gun to my head and tell me im beautiful
I can breathe like you
I poked my finger into your unflinching eye
not a yelp in surprise, darling
people are lemon tainted goldfish
bitter and boring
(I should really try not to use the word and so much but sometimes things don't make sense- and we need connectives to explain them)
explain this.
But cat's know this of humans
they are born with the innate knowledge that
people are **** they will never love you for long
that human loyalty is fickle
so they daze off indifferent
while dogs will chase you around, crying
when you are gone
I am a dog
woof woof
bark for me baby
you little *****
on the floor
I am still trying to make your feet reach the floor
But the noose was wound too tightly around that lamp
you had pretty feet
I always looked at hands

If I could lay under you and catch your death as it fell
I would swallow it and leave it there to rot
where all the dead things are
I looked for a heartbeat but there was none
crystal windows reflected blue skin we were swimming under water
this aint no fairytale
sleep, must sleep.
May 2012 · 2.4k
Odi May 2012
I sketched a faceless man today
I put more details in his hands than I ever could in his eyes

I drew a faceless woman today
forward facing
I put more details on the muscles of her back
than I ever could her nose

I painted a faceless child today
I put more details on his body
than I ever could his lips

I painted faceless beings today
all hollowed out alone
my art teacher looked at me like i was a little disturbed
I could not explain to him that the hollow of her cheekbone
will have more meaning
than the color of her eyes
or the voluptuousness of her lips
and that the strain in her shoulders
will show
and that man will have more meaning in the creases
of his palms
than I could ever put on the lines of his face
And all I could think of was
How that faceless woman had a **** good
mostly trunk
May 2012 · 839
I don't even know
Odi May 2012
I lack a certain meaning
something in my eyes doesnt shine as bright when people look at me it makes them want to look past me and I hate how average things can be and how I lack that certain "Oomph"
When all I really want is someone to say "Its alright darling the stars were made the same way as you, theyre just sometimes too bright to look at, too beautiful. Like staring at the sun too long."
And I am happy and content and excited and now I am crying at this computer screen.

I have lost memories and things are a darker shade of gray than they were before,
and it smells of ****,
this life im living.
But there's this nagging feeling like
"You're way too young to feel this way"
and I like to pretend it isn't some gay drake song
This ******* useless head, that detached side on the left that tells me to be quiet when I cry too loud,
or to let it the **** out,
inbuilt therapy.
I only hope that my language carries out to your ears and you pluck my words from your brain like that certain hair you didn't like growing on the inside of your nose and outside of your ear and you should listen dear
listen and hear.

My dreams are laughable because I am only seventeen
and realize I am a cliche and that protective screen
I had been
wearing when I really thought I hadn't, well its gone now.
So my dad was right about how many things I don't know about the world,
"The world is full of awful awful things"
and I thought I understood him then, well now I do.
Now I do.
There is a harsher kind of light that shines on the things I see,
some sort of UV process, reflected back at me, and It makes me sick, and nauseous and heavy.
I carry my cynicism like I carry myself, like its a stranger I'm supposed to know
But the best things can be carried off, If you really don't know
what you're talking about.

I think I am special because my **** doesn't smell as bad as everyone else's.
May 2012 · 1.2k
Do it again
Odi May 2012
I realise why I'm drawn to alcoholics
after you, because you taste like one;
heat-filled,numbing passion.
Because you are certain of your drug
of choice
and can hold your liquor
So that means you can hold me
our hands only shake when we're sober
so lets stay drunk all the ******* tIme
and fight off these ghosts in beer bottles
ode to Jack Daniels for leading us to
true love
because there really must be a god
if something as sweet as this
could exist

Until the morning when we wake up
still slightly
staggering, stuttering
dark eyes and muttering
apologies for what happened
"last night"
but were not sorry because well do it again
just bring the whiskey
Ill bring a pen

So I realize you're as smooth as the poison you drink
and as sharp as the blade
i use to inflict
these toxins of waste in my breath
on my skin
but we'll do it again
yeah we'll do it again
Odi May 2012
We learned about a boy in class
In 1st grade, some god granted him wings
But he flew too close to the sun
and died and drowned a terrible death

I meet this boy a few years later
I tell him about my death-wish
Thats at the bottom of my bucket list
And he tosses them all away

He says his wings have been clipped
and that he still thinks hes drowning
in a sea of vast emptiness
And the only burn signs on him
are his eyes
like dying embers that I cant save

he kissed me with abandon
threw water into my heart
it was dried out and torn
you see
his eyes they burned their way down my throat
igniting a light
as he leaves

And I think about that boy
Icarus I believe his name
He flew too close to the burning flame
Like a moth to a light
and singed his broken wings

but they forgot out the part
where the sun melts his wax heart
and he drowns in the deep dark

And I forgot to tell you about the ending
about the salt water in my lungs
that I lurch back profusely
I realize its just the second skin of a little lost zombie boy
This isn't CPR
this is choking on his dead weight passion
drowning on his blue eyed sorrow

Like he choked on the sea.
A work in progress. Any hints/tips/help would be appreciated!

P.S I know I got the story wrong.
May 2012 · 798
Odi May 2012
I wake up heavy
Try to shake off dreams that make me
I wake up tired
Before the headaches start
I wake up dull
Like my skull is too small for my brain
and the pressure
is slowly killing me
theres this pit in my stomach
and thats why I cant sleep
The sound of my heartbeat has kept me up for
and If I could just have one night where
I wont wake up
hour Ill
be fine I promise
If I could just have one more night where I dont ache
from the memories
of a home so long ago
because we all know
You don't go home twice
You cant go home twice
So Ill find a sanctuary inside my brain
somewhere warm and nice
where these sleepless dreams reside
and Ill figure out how to breathe
and block the sound of my heartbeat
So I wont have to wake up
with a lump in my throat
and aching
that ache
for home
for *home
Its getting old, I know.
May 2012 · 1.0k
I wish I had been aborted
Odi May 2012
The ground has grown weary
Of bearing my tattered corpse
And I've been dragged along this cold pavement
So long
I forget how it is to feel the relief in my joints
when I get up
Because I've been down for so long
I'm afraid of even raising my head
to see if there's a glimmer
of hope
or ray
of sunshine for me
Because if there is
this flat paper heart
just might find it in itself
to try and move these broken limbs
and hold on to something steady
So I can raise my self up
but my kneecaps have been skinned to the bone
From the pressure of crawling
for way to ******* long
And these hands
are on the verge of snapping and falling off
So don't give me
Apr 2012 · 1.6k
Red sky at morning
Odi Apr 2012
I watch a sunrise behind an old abandoned church in my home-town
I haven't slept for two nights
the crystal clear beauty of the sleep-deprived
the jaw aching beauty of the pink sky
almost hurts my eyes
the irony I see reflected back at me
how such a daring light could hide behind
a cowardly institution
My thoughts are crisp and clear
after two nights of no sleep
and I cant describe
I cannot describe what I see
But its there behind my eyelids
when I close them shut
I am dreaming of tomorrow
But tomorrow never comes.
I am closer to god when I am sleepless
Though I'm not sure I believe in god when I am awake
like all things are during suffering
and the sky is just a canvas
for me to whisper my thoughts to
I paint his hands in the shape of clouds
under this red sky at morning
They hold nothing
and nothing holds them
heavy hands and my heavy eyelids
both closed
he holds me in his hands
he holds the promise of tomorrow
I tell him tomorrow is a lie.
This is not about religion.
Apr 2012 · 1.0k
Open Palms
Odi Apr 2012
I held on to paper  bags just in case she would hyper
part of me wanted to smack her when she did
I held on to his hands just in-case he had the urge to
punch a hole through another wall
we couldn't afford to fix
those bruises
the kind that never heal
and broken knuckles are
no price to pay
but I gathered some certainty in his closed
balled up fists
because his anger meant more
than his shut eyes
and gritted teeth
Like chewing glass
loosen the screws that held his jaw
shut tight
and I promise not to tell you its okay but
it really is
at some point
we all hate those words
and she should just chill out and breathe
because people get sick
but they don't always die
there's no certainty in that
but still
will be
body language speaks louder than words.
Beer? anyone?
Apr 2012 · 1.1k
Counting Tiles
Odi Apr 2012
You spoke addiction
like a language
like an art form
marks on your arms
on your thighs
A Mosaic of patterns
You said they looked prettier than the
ligature marks around your neck
the invisible noose
you constantly swayed from
Like addiction was a guy
you couldn't make your mind up
at-least they had more meaning
You said I never understood the purpose of tiles
and how beautiful they looked close up
and how you never got bored of counting them
There was more life in your bruises
than in your eyes
like each little hole
****** out a little more of you
said I could never understand the
beauty in
lukewarm bath water
turn cold
In a womb of your own destruction
in a needle
in a rope
in a razor
a false sense of life
of *life
For her/him that/it.
Apr 2012 · 2.0k
Well, the truth hurts. Baby.
Odi Apr 2012
Next time you tell me to go away
I'll show you just how good I am at disappearing
You just haven't stuck around long enough for the
vanishing act
You have the audacity to
say my name tastes like filth
But have you ever thought
that the source of your uncleanliness
was born somewhere in your lung's
and made its way up your throat
I can taste that
when I kiss you
No wonder everything turn's to grit
in your mouth
You have the stones
to say
you're an insomniac
But there's a difference between
not wanting to sleep
and not being able to
And your hands wouldn't shake so much
if you didn't drink so much coffee
and you wouldn't look so tired
If you smiled once in a while
and your breath wouldn't taste
or smell
or look
like ****
if you didn't smoke
100 packets a day.
So you have the audacity to tell me
"Well, baby the truth hurts."
In that southern drawl
With eyes so animated
I wonder which movie star you're impersonating now
After four months of Kurt Cobain
I've had enough of your angst and love letters
And I'd love to lay
my hands against your throat
and let you feel the threat
of life
draining away
But I know you would just smile
and rack your brain
for a quote from a movie you have stored somewhere
Apr 2012 · 960
Somewhere in the past
Odi Apr 2012
Don't look back Jack
You know where you have been
I'll clean your wounded arms Jack
Oh but the things you've seen Jack
Oh the things you've seen.

Lay your hands bare Jack
Lay your body here darling
Lay your stomach there Jack
Ill wipe it all clean

Ill watch the blood turn black Jack
A color only cutter's know
But please open up a window Jack
Its getting too cold in here
With only you and me
to warm up the atmosphere
We need to learn how to resemble the sun
Wear it on our skins
  And Ill pass you the whiskey Jack
I promise I will
As soon as you close that door please
and open up a window

I'm shivering
and its a kind of cold
that alcohol can't fix
A kind of lonely
You can't numb, Jack
And I don't want to tell you of the shape of my bruises
And how I think they match the stars
But I could write essays on your eyes Jack
Essays on your arms

If they weren't inked black
If there is any part of you that is pure
Let me gather the light in your eyes
with this washcloth
and some scissors
We'll find something to agree on
and well wipe the white off the walls
We'll paint it a ferocious red Jack
We'll turn the heat up high man
We'll burn this whole ******* place down
Apr 2012 · 1.3k
You can't confine pain
Odi Apr 2012
I've seen boys turn into men
   hands full of grenades
made of anger, of hurt of
and smiles that could light-
no ignite
This cold heart of mine

I've known boys so steady
so calm
so sure
But they ended up dragging me-
along the cold hard pavement floor
Until I was nothing but a tattered corpse

They let me go
Like children do balloons
When my burdens grew too heavy
For the both of us to bare

I've seen boy's
-no men
With eyes so bright
so happy
so full of
I've known kids
so hollow
so empty

That even a rhyme couldn't describe
And I tell them to sit
sit down
and write it all out
But the paper grows damp
From the tears of their pens
And their poems unstructured
Their names but a blur

So now I know
I know
You can't tame all wild things
You cannot confine
To paper
As Pen to paper
Unfinished. And not one of my best.
Odi Mar 2012
When I have fevers
I grow *****
I say things like "Quit your ******* whining."
Or "You're such a **** dad."
When my skin burns
And my pores feel like they're on fire
from the inside
I say things that rhyme with the truth
Resemble a certain meaning
I don't make it sound melodious
Or tedious
Its factual
and im ballsy

I talk to walls about that crackhead on the fifth floor
Who I hear talks to herself at night
Or is it her baby girl one that was taken away
Her words are mumbles that resemble a feeling I cant quite name
I tell the walls they're too ****** thin
   they should eat something
Fatten up or they'll end up like my sister
    when I have a fever I don't remember the sound of her cracking rib bones
under my useless hands
I don't dream about CPR

Sometimes I hear children crying; the floor up above me
And If I listen really hard they aren't really crying, they're laughing so hard
And the man that is yelling he isn't really yelling hes playing peekaboo with his three
children and I smile
I am delirious
The truth is delirious
We are all ******* delirious
and drugged up
and ****** up
I laugh
It is one endless fever after another
And all the truth I think I've spoken
It was just a dream
The delirious kind
I laugh
Mar 2012 · 1.5k
We all get fucked
Odi Mar 2012
Did you get those scars on your knees from praying?
Or ******* your fathers **** inside the barn?
or did you pray while doing it
that he would choke on his own satisfied face?
did you sit inside his church listening to him preach
hypocrisy to family and friends
while you swallowed back that bitter taste he left in your mouth
the one that tasted like an anger so pure it made your eyes water?
did you wait patiently for him to finish his speeches about
salvation, jesus, god and being sinless
whilst you prayed in that godless church, he would miss a step
fall and break his neck?
Was that thought the only thing that gave light to your eyes?
did you think these things while you brushed the dirt and gravel off your knees
wash the blood in the toilet
Put on your Sunday dress and look at yourself in the mirror
with empty eyes
that knew nothing but hate
and a shame so heavy it made you hate the act of breathing?
because every time you did it reminded you of the weight on your chest that no amount
of air
(like the time he sat on you when you were sleeping)

Do you think that gods disciples and prostitutes have the same knees?
Do you think anyone can tell the difference?

Does the cross around your neck ever threaten
to get so tight it chokes you?
so hot, it burns your skin?

Too much praying gets you to the same place
when you're left with nowhere to dish out your pain
and too many unanswered questions, on your knees
on your ******* knees
about fathers and gravel, dirt **** and spit
*We all get ****** in the end
For Janice, the girl with empty eyes and a bible in her backpack.
Odi Mar 2012
If it makes you sick then dont drink it
Not if it makes you sick
and you seem to only write sad stories
if it makes you sad dont think it
no dont you think

But it feels so very good
When it warms its way down your throat
It almost seems to melt
All the ice inside your soul
And it feels like such a huge release
When that knife hits your skin
You almost cant see passed the tears
Cant see passed the sin

But its okay
Because it feels so very good when you dont feel a thing
And the alcohol is just numbing that sting
And it feels so very good when you dont know what to do
When you put a song on
But forget the tune

Oh, if it makes you bleed dont do it
Please dont you dare
If it makes you scream dont sing it
Dont you ******* care?
Do you really think those scars will heal?
On that faint delicate skin?
Is this how you tell your real?
Yeah, the blood doesnt match the grin

No those scars dont match your alcoholic grin.
Odi Mar 2012
I met a boy in Carolina
with eyes like the Californian sun
He said he wanted to kiss me under the sky
that was made of silk and velvet
I thought the sky looked nothing like silk
Just endless afflictions of stars, like twinkling people
Boundless constriction of atmosphere and something else
not quite reflected back at us
I didn't want to look at the sky because I thought his eyes
shone brighter than any star
with the innocent sparkle of boy-hood
and glee
And I wondered what it was he saw in
In my own dark eyes that must've reflected the sea,
some dangerous dark devouring ocean
What made him smile?
Was it my lips?
"Your eyes were always like the moon"
I remember you said
And even though your hands were shaky
Unlike his steady fingers
that did not stutter
sure of themselves in this world
And even if his stance was not
I could've sworn I saw a little bit of you
In this boy with the southern accent
with eyes like the burning sun
When he lit his cigarette with purpose
And looked at me
The same way you did
With wonder
Not finished
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