I strive to experience
all the ways
Is there joy when eating?
I strive to experience eating-joy!
Is there joy when having ***
with somebody I romantically-love?
I strive to experience romantic-***-joy!
Is there joy in exercising my muscles?
I strive to experience muscles-joy!
Is there joy in exercising my brain?
I strive to experience thinking-joy!
Is there joy in exercising my emotions?
I strive to experience feeling-joy!
what are all the ways
I can experience
using my body?
I drank poison
of hate and resentment tonight.
I wonder whether my eyes
will be tumid tomorrow
of all the tears that were shed
and glow with malevolence
or wouldn't event want to lift an eyelid.
I wonder whether my
tongue will spew the vile remaining
or it wouldn't even utter a word.
I wonder whether my muscles will
fulminate with the energy of hate
or it would be too heavy to get off
I wonder if my mind will be raging
tomorrow or would've drowned and
been dissolved by the venom coursing through me.
I wonder as I slip into sleep.
She wore the blood
He added the muscles
A conflict around change
Restrictions, men and women
One of the two black out poetry pieces I did last week, but decided not to do the drawing for this one. Not a poem written from personal experience.
Shimmering eyes gaze in silence
The performer coated in dazzling gems assumes the position
Their muscles tighten and their arms rise like sturdy branches
Her eyes ablaze with raging fear and excitement
The vast expanse of all the possibilities of the future in front of her
Anticipation rising like pure energy through her body
She hears her cue
And she leaps
Heartbreak forced through the cracks,
Dripping heavy ichor, drip drops interminable.
Muscles and veins shredded,
Caught on rough stone edges.
Pulled by strings attached to your sharpened claws.
I scream soundless,
Beg for the end with my thoughts.
Beg for these dreams to vanish into the day.
Dreams of everything being nice and perfect after a breakup are the worst.
it takes seventeen muscles to smile.
it takes forty three muscles to frown.
if it takes more muscles to frown then it does to smile,
then why does it take so much more effort to smile when you're sad?
or to smile in general?
i told you i wasn't feeling like myself.
Do you bleed when you write?
When your fingertips
get sore and your muscles
Do you bleed?
From your heart?
With each beat comes a new
and you hope that it sounds like something
that doesn't quite rhyme
But it sounds good in time.
It'll sound good in time.
Just keep writing.
Don't give up on this. The pen was made for your hand and your hand only. I swear.
The fibers of energy,
Meshing together forming strength itself,
The muscles of the bear,
Or the snake,
All look the same as mans,
It seems biology,
Is our great equalizer.
Exhausted body. Everything hurts...
Muscles cramping, tightening, dying
Headache pounding. Empty thoughts
Haven’t slept much lately..it hurts
i Keep rubbing my wrists and my forearms nervously anxiously and can
feel the tendons ache and the muscles on my left forearm snap back and forth: a (broken) guitar string slapping the frets every
time it is
strummed. If i push on the muscles --or the string, perhaps there is no difference-- too hard my hand (goes numb) and the cord (chord)-like muscles seep exhaustion into my skin --forgive me for this. there is little i can do and big i can do but all i remember is everything
it starts small a little bit of pain but i know I will willingly take it for just
( a little bit of you )
infiltrating me I don't know why my legs ache and my skin fights against me I am grateful for You fighting for me grateful for me fighting for You
this has been full of change full of upside down i am proud of my START AGAIN abilities of my explore: drive anywhere you want GO GO mindset
but sometimes I ache. calling you nightly is
not enough but I promise to make it enough
to try to make everything you do
feel like more than enough
i love when the sun is warm and it is cloudy and i get the opportunity to trip over you Accidentally or (not so accidentally). falling into tears every time I hear a symphony play-- perhaps there is no love in the world comparable to a
symphony or perhaps I am
sinfully biased due to my
experiences with symphonic beings
i Intend to live my life Running or dancinG with symphonies blossoming between my tender and temporarily not calloused
with you and we
Constantly reinventing what it means to be Alive
I will try my best ( for you and for Me) but
there is not