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Isaac Mar 22
my fingernails are growing so long, I can feel myself changing
my v line is bulging out, my chest is getting fuzzy
my beard is filling out, my sideburns connecting
stretch marks cover my body like a painting
I am a legend in the making
sculpting my body like clay, greek god coming your way
is it Zeus, Poseidon, whichever way
I am aligning myself to the path, to the way
tuning the frequency I'm on
to have me booming through the stereos
to have me popping, up up and way we go
Madisen Kuhn Mar 2021
come here. i’ll wrap myself around you
most of the time i’m sure i’m a sliding glass door
obvious like a schoolgirl crush
never able to hide the pink in my cheeks
or bury the truth behind enough broken parables
i’m about as vigilant as a chihuahua
perched on top of a sofa barking at the mailman
forgetting for a moment that you could pick me up
and put me down on the floor but
i promise i’ll just jump back up again
never fully accepting the plainness of my bluff
the winters crack my knuckles but
i don’t want to buy another pair of gloves
i’ve got ripped fingernails turned ******
and a kitchen sink full of unwashed mugs
and you’re pulling my hands away from my face
trying to show me how much we look the same
Anisah Mar 2020
There's dirt under my fingernails
There's pen marks on my hand
I don't know how they got there
I just don't understand
I'm curled up in a corner
My stomach is tied in knots
There's something crawling in my throat
I can't connect the dots
I've lost the feeling in my arm
From clutching it to my head
Crying up the distance
That they should have made instead
Faintly in the backdrop
They simmer in something mean
I wash my hand with soapy water
But the marks can still be seen
All I hear are glasses
They smash towords the floor
All I smell is putrid gas
From the night out just before
I'm getting kind of sleepy
And we're past the midnight mark
But it's difficult to dream
When the dreams you made are dark
But nontheless I'm sleeping
I move but make no sound
And I wake up in the morning
There's empty bottles all around
I don't know what happened to you
Because the laughter falls like sand
But there's dirt under my fingernails
And pen marks on my hands.

- Anisah Mariah
kat victoria Mar 2019
black lighters
chipped fingernails
i got rid of the old me
and i miss her like hell.
short hair
no cares
no trace
of what used to be there.
i turned into everything you hated
thinking somehow
that that would erase you from me.
transform into someone you never touched.
someone you never loved.
but now i’m just that
someone you never loved
someone you never could have.
and i’m sorry to say
that it didn’t work.
now there is no turning back
this is who i am now
and i have to live with that.
Sumaira Asghar Dec 2018
Years ago,
I had built
walls around me,
made of loneliness, anger-
and agony.
My remorse, my grief failed
to traverse these walls.
I might have knocked them down
as i run madly after clouds,
or do they run after me?
In this autumn evening,
my fingernails still can trace
walls built by you, invisible,
KM Hanslik Apr 2018
I don't think there are road maps
for these things;
I think the naivety of childhood has taken this long to uncover
blank stares and clenched fists, I think the nights
weren't so long when you got more than 6 hours
to rest your eyes.

I am slowly just molding
myself into different versions of who I want to be,
but my hands fumble and put the pieces in all
the wrong places before they get it right.
I softly take the thought of forever out of its box, wondering
if it will ever ring true or if it is simply another
of those lies that are spoon-fed to you until you can't
base your own experiences on fiction or reality anymore.

Do you want to know what we do in the dark?

This is different; the way secrets spill
from open mouths and the way our eyes are hazy from
drugs or tiredness /lowered inhibitions/,
in these moments we tell each other everything and forget about
spiked armor and the sound of death chasing
at our heels. We scrape our fingernails against
half-truths and discover the way honesty melts on our tongues,
warm, like we've forgotten what it feels like and are only just
welcoming it back into our bodies.

I want our dreams to realize the timing that clouds
our psyches with shared bliss, can you take a moment
and spell that out for me? What do your eyes see when we strip
the dusty fabric away,
are you closer to knowing
who I am? Are you closer to knowing
why we could never bee what we thought we should, because
reality is not born out of story-books, and picket fences don't
distill the truth enough to make it palatable?

We've had to learn ourselves to covet
all the places we've found to pour our hearts into, we've had to shield
any possible innocence and sharpen our teeth to guard it.
But now that these things are done and
there's dirt under our nails from burying those dreams,
take a shovel and tear them out of the ground, because it is never going to get easier, and you have to learn
this before it gets much worse.
Tear those half-hopes from the womb and force
them to breathe, they must choke on this polluted air before they are able
to claw their way into the light.

Stop burying what is meant to fly and don't turn your demons too soft, they have to go
through hell before this passes. But it will.
And when the sun comes up again and the ache sinks so deep through your bones
that your body collapses,
you will learn that these pains are a part of teaching you
how to exist, and your words
won't sink like stones anymore, you will learn
to deepen roots within yourself and to take these realities
with you, twisted through with your own hopeful fictions -

each in turn, will come to fruition and each in turn will both ruin
and create you - at once the struggle
and the passion
of becoming
have i

eyes through seas
salt through sands sees
trying me through this
fabricated trees

my finger tips

her hips watching me

in between

circle ing over canyons

from the cave
she calms
to me
what wings

chaziyer Oct 2017
I will be a window
and the secrets you tell with your lips.
The sighs you blanket with the softest care
and the breaths you unknowingly count.

I will be the reminder of every second spent
and every moment felt.
A contradiction of your judgement
and a compliment of your beliefs.

I will be the ink of each unwritten imitation
of every mediocre song.
The scent of orange peel that trails on the
extravagant curves of your fingernails.

Zero Nine Jun 2017
The breath of the wind raises hairs on her neck.
She breathes out a clouded breath of whiskey fire.
Outside the venue, she kicks her shoes, waiting.
Where's the loser on the drum kit?
She knows she blows the set with her absence, but she can't
Stop tapping her heel at the wall, measuring splits in bricks
With her nicotine fingernails.
Where's She? She's such a *****.
The whole day closes in, in an instant, night descends.
Her twentieth cigarette dances in a rush to end it,
But her eyes catch sight of the mauve and indigo sky through
Buildings over bridges. Twilight ignites her quarter candlestick.
Outside the venue she kicks her shoes, waiting.
Outside her lonely lungs drink carcinogen
to an eager death with smokers. Cough.
Cough cough cough
Cool as ice.

Love you all.
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