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Give me the sea and I'll drink it
all of it
Give me the sky and I'll blot it out
cut it out
leave the gaping earth barren of its liquid dressing
and leave the sky naked of its blue face
there is no compare
that is
not to say you are not enough for me
not at all
it is to say you are more than I could have desired
than I could have dreamed
and I do not tire of you
not in my darkest moments
when I'm stretched thin
and there is no longer
a devil-may-care draped about my addled mind
when my patience snaps
when my jaw clamps
my eyes droop
my brain thumps against my skull
not even then
with the last vestiges of civility held in grasp
not even then can I think to lash out at you
not even when you poke
or ****
plod about my sensibilities
maim my sensitivities
not even then
not even when you roll your eyes
give me that long 'hmmmm - really...'
I don't give in to the nagging,
nigh satisfying itch to shake with rage
and curse everything that stems from the womb
I am cool as a cucumber
placid as a windless lake
I roll my shoulders
flutter my eyelashes
look you up and down
'My... my... tired aren't you?'
Your shoulders slump
Your efforts to topple me abate
You nod your head
curl up on my lap
isn't it
how comforted we become
when we are offered solace
in exchange for an argument
that neither of us
would win?
The first line came to me and I thought it was so funny.
So I wrote out a poem for it and I hope you like it as much as I did writing it.


Rafael Melendez Feb 2022
The touch of her hand on mine, fingers clasped tightly.
Her arms wrapped around me, squeezing the life out of me.
Her lips, soft and light as heaven's touch, they part, and
God, you always sound like an angel when you tell me you love me.

I wish I'd remember when we argue, so I can change.
I wish I didn't only remember these things after we fight, maybe things would end differently.
I'm afraid one day it will be too late.

Please, never let it be too late.
Anais Vionet Nov 2021
I’m in the kitchen at Lisa’s. Her little sister Leeza enters, her pale, freckled face redder than usual. “Liza is the bossiest sister..,” Leeza says, slamming the cupboard door after grabbing a box of Fruity-Pebbles-cereal like she’s choking the life out of it.

Lisa enters from the hall, her jaw set with tension, she waves her “La Mer” makeup bag, wildly, letting its very existence, there in the kitchen, function as angry exposition. “YOU,” she practically screams and then shaking with outrage, she begins more calmly. “You can’t use someone else's makeup and ESPECIALLY not their brushes!!” She had begun under control but with each word her message grew emotionally.

“I didn’t hurt anything!” Leeza answered venomously back, giving as good as she got.

I lean with my **** against the waist high kitchen island, slowly letting myself slide down to where I’m not visible, into a sitting position on the floor, as the fight quickly escalates.

Have you ever been a guest somewhere, when there’s a sibling fight or other parents start yelling at a friend? All you can do is try and become invisible - or pretend to text on your phone like you can’t hear the turmoil.

I catch a motion out of the corner of my eye, it’s their mom, Karen, motioning me, with a side-bob of her head, into the living room. I quietly, crouchingly exit the kitchen - the fight reaching full, nuclear bloom.

I join her on a white sectional, breathing a sigh of relief. We’re far enough away from the action to feel uninvolved. I like Karen a lot. She's warm, open and always seems to be suppressing a smile when watching her girls. She’s a lawyer. “You’re officially part of the family,” she says, as she takes a sip of coffee, “they don’t fight in front of company.” I grin.

Somewhere just below the tumult, I hear a dad’s deep, male voice, “Excuse me?” he says, and the fight is instantly over. There is a moment of deafening quiet. “It’s NOTHING,” both girls say, a second later, in perfect, synchronized, bored-sounding unison.
sisters, what can you do?
Lunar Jun 2021
When the darkness spreads and the screaming penetrates even my dreams
The seduction of empty space calls at me
It’s attraction is undeniable
My daydreaming naturally becoming more visual  
The flavour of death
An ecstasy like no other
My strongest and last ******
So many options but only one to be my sinful romance

Will it be:
My tanned yellow appearance if I take too much
The chalk outline if I take a nudge
The rose stained bath if I dig a bit more
My neck ornament when I hit the floor
The gruesome distance a burst pipeline will go
The sweating and shaking from a hypo
Or simply a collision with a glare of light
Or maybe the ground was never my right
And I would prefer the pull from my lungs’ weight
or the heat off my skin as it ablates

Or maybe you would prefer an accident
Maybe that will help you cover your names
Don’t worry I won’t leave a note
I’ll let your guilt engross you
And when it gets too much you can use your sorry excuses to help suit you
You can blame my unstable personality
My weak mental health
My poverty of speech
But at least you’ll think twice the next time you speak
This will be my sweet everlasting revenge
However for now my battle isn’t over. I just refuse to be taken to the enemy side. I would rather stab myself with own spear than have my soul be tainted.

When It’s do or die, I feel electrified
- Autumn Kings: Electrified
Raven Feels May 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, a dream one week ago:9

when that world came to an end

I saw all the colors in hindsight-eyes bend

cheetahs brush the graves on a pupil in the browns they fade

kisses planted on necks for a goodbye imaginary mates no meet made

stake on the runs

cars jogging in place neon lights with no sun

the packed stuff stumble on frights and screams I can't shut

the hell does it mean when you're choked on fatal without a but

doors abandon left sensations in scare in must

breathes don't do any when opened after this disastrous dust

when the world came to a salty end

a smile in me shattered on no coming backs forever send

stillhuman May 2021
It usually starts like this
My heart beats loud and angry
cracking my bones crushing my chest
My breath escapes me
empties my lungs as if i have run
My mind creates a thought
a terrible thought
then exchanges it for another
and another and another
moving too fast making it hard
to follow the line of thought
that causes my lips to bleed
from where my teeth bite them
and to others i look calm
barely pensive
maybe stressing
but my body is still like rock
and hot like fever
it can't catch up with my thoughts
and the voices in my head
i didn't do enough i didn't stop it
i didn't care enough why didn't i drop it
it should be me suffering not you
suffocating in cluttering feelings
and conversation smothering
everything you are

And then
I hear you
and You are fine 
just too busy
to answer my calls
So it falls
My chest from where it was tensing
And I
I could never let you know this feeling, the guilt would eat your heart out
Andrew Rueter Jan 2021
Referees mismanage oversight
incorrect calls lower credibility
faith in justice dissolves into the ice
agency is taken into padded hands
vigilantes slash and spear.

Hip check leads to cross check leads to fist check
malignant hostility boils over
leather armor is removed
interphalangeal joints meet mandible
type O negative paints a jersey
haymakers take bizarre trajectories
to avoid helmets and visors
the face is homebase to ingrain pain.

Violence subverts gamesmanship
players must be taken off ice
to be put on ice
otherwise brawls become overabundant
and destroy the integrity of the sport
yet each transfer of agony is euphorically satisfying
—considering the context—
so fist fairs continue for the foreseeable future
we organize an impenetrable perimeter
once we've acclimated to penalty kills.
LAICEY Nov 2020
You are a bullet,
harmless, fascinating, daunting -
when unprovoked and on your own.
Except maybe a choking hazard.
Nice to touch and feel on my skin, but cold.

Give you power,
or a gun,
your aim is never accurate but
deadly all the same.

I can replay it - you charging
at the TV with incredible speed -
in slow motion.
The sound that followed was deafening.
It was an ear ringing, catastrophic explosion.
It was your fist meeting the screen,
us screaming and me crying,
on my cut up and bruised knees,
begging for you not to leave.

I had a tendency to chase after bullets
and a desire to fix the mess they would create.
I didn’t realise that I was the one being chased.
And that I was my mess I had to clean up.

I’ve stopped going after bullets.
(But now I play with fire.)
© LAICEY Poems November 2020
PM Oct 2020
Once again you tell me nothing is wrong
but I have known you for too long to see it.
And with that little lie, things start to break.
So once again I try to see what is wrong,
but you are still a closed door in my face
and with everything that is going wrong
I can not take one more thing on my plate.
This being the last drop to overflow my life.
Now I find myself deep in a bottle of wine.
Just trying to drink my problems away
but it won't help since I'm stuck in place.
Unable to move.
rayma Sep 2020
Recipe for Disaster:
         1 cup blame, directed away from yourself
         2 tsp of emotional manipulation
         1/4 cup of freshly squeezed fake apologies
         1/8 tsp of spite
         3 cups of self-hatred, projected onto somebody else
         1/2 cup of anxiety, rooted in insecurity
         A pinch of miscommunication
         1 tbsp of false hope
         A healthy dash of passive aggression to taste
         A splash of whiskey
         -- halve the empathy

         1. Combine ingredients and simmer until completely evaporated.
         2. Apologize and start again.
         3. Repeat steps one and two.
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