athena baluyot Feb 24

love is probably hidden in the most profound corners of the harrowing edges of a human heart. the soul craves for something that makes you want to see another sunrise. it's death, but clinging to it with with such desperate pertinacity. you see yourself disintegrate to a different form until you forget who you are.

love is a series of tragic uncertainties but it is something you would still risk for. it is what keeps us alive, probably what we're all made for. it's seeing the ugliest parts, sharp edges and the most dangerous curves. seeing them drenched in salt water but still choosing to grow old with them.

love is completing the other half, being an extension of his limbs and doing the things he can't. it is whispering and holding hands in half dark, giving all that you have and more without expecting anything in return. using a whip for the first time but don't know who ends up getting hurt.

love is someone you prayed for every night but it could hurt to a certain degree you couldn't take and would make you feel alive at the same time.

- love is a paradox, a nostrum humans take desperately waiting for it to work.

- wrote this for a friend. OMG
Erin Suurkoivu Sep 2016

What are these bodies, these
limbs, giving up their sap
and heat? Who decides
who dies, who lives?

What is cut down is
cut down, and
bereft children
grow in their place.

It is such a funny thing
how love drifts back and forth
between tangled limbs;
    amongst a mess of sheets;
        through bruised kisses,
             and; alcohol-riddled breaths.
She rolled over
and nestled herself
in the crook of his arms.
This motion
seems to have grown
into the comfort of routine;
a rhythm
that their bodies have created,
quietly speaking the words
that were left unsaid.
"The night is young,
and endless,
and beautiful;" she murmured.

"As are you," he returned.

Martin Narrod Jul 2016

"I think this is a poem you wrote on my phone (or it is something I wrote). I can't remember. It is from a time period when we were in the desert and both had working phones." - Sarah

Martin's musings
If you thought you had met the love of your life- what would you do? The heat is up our chills up and down, and the faces the old women make in drug-induced ticks, heavy noisome smells mixed with the best greatest sweetest smelling true love you've ever known.

And five times a day now you spend hours and hours entwined and touching and being touched by the greatest and softest skin cells your skin has ever been against

And with perfervid excitednees, a cold chest, but tepid limbs, you avoid blinking to extend the lifespans of us both.

While driving through Joshua Tree National Park I dictated these lines to my fiancée  Sarah Gray she added several lines herself, most oftenly everything after the first line of each stanza.

Head and Shoulders, knees and toes

That's the way the story goes

Here is something no one knows

To's important

It's the inventory song

You may think that this is wrong

Put me back where I belong

But, lepers need to do this

Count your digits 'fore you leave

It's a fact you must believe

They're not out for to deceive

They need to inventory

If they count and all is there

They face the world without a care

They lose their parts, but not their hair

Their day will be successful

Head and Shoulders, Knees and toes

That's the way the old song goes

I've got four fingers and six toes

I guess I'll put some gloves on

The inventory song is neat

It teaches them, they need two feet

Or they can't walk down the street

It really is important

Gripping things is kind of tough

When've not enough

You know your fingers' with your stuff

You'll go and find it later

So, if you think that  this is wrong

And you do not like this song

Put me back where I belong

I think this song's a service

Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes

I've a friend with half a nose

Now you know what no one knows

Inventory is required.

Tessa Calogaras Mar 2016

Sometimes I think
of what a tragedy it is
for us to build towers so tall,
that we couldn’t see.
That it was not a home
but a barrier of walls.
Stacked so high with bricks.
With my weakened state and
feeble limbs
I could not crack
Nor chip away
At aggregates and paste
to see even the slightest trace
of light.

Tessa Calogaras
Copyright 2016
enjolras Jan 2016

so darling, it's funny,
i just had a swedish massage and
i cannot feel my bones
but for all the wrong reasons.

Emily Townsend Sep 2015

A shred of gasoline spills
each time I give myself to you.
I continue to light my breaking limbs on fire
each time you glance at me.
The flames burn and lick and spread
each time we crash we disintegrate we exist no more.

Rustine Hamlett Aug 2015

whenever I meet someone new, I inevitably check their limbs for scars.

they are almost always there, some solitary little wisps, some like a cross-hatching, a pattern, a score...

...and I find that the stories written there are irresistible, and the wounds run deeper than I can kiss.

I always fall for the broken ones, whose scars travel further than I've ever been.

August 10, 2015

I started with the last line a long time ago, and it's been flitting around in my head, with the rest of the words just out of reach. It finally made sense tonight.
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