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R Saba Nov 2014
i step out
and the rain greets me like a blessing
bestowed by some great silence
i speak to each sunday
and i take this as an answer
because why the hell not

i am suddenly sure i have left something behind
but no, my bag is there
notebooks tucked under my arm
ipod clutched in one hand
phone safe inside my jacket
consorting with my keys
(proof I've got somewhere to go)
travel mug empty, wallet full
of receipts and loyalty cards

finally, pricked by the bent arm of a button
i give up, knowing it's all in my head
and i have everything i need to survive today

still, i feel like something's missing

my right hand clings to my scarf
fingers tight, knuckles white
as if to say
"give me something to hold onto"
and the rain that stings my face reminds me

i have everything i need to survive today
except you
rsc Aug 2014
Cell phone shield in hand,
the mirror-me peers
into a shoddy, cracked up
dream reflector-slash-protector
as I make amends with
my agitated mitochondria and
attempt to drill miniscule holes into
paper dolls without ripping them.

So screams the wall hanging!
Banshees dance, falling
into cyclical romances as
cream colored microphones peek
out around one-way windows wondering
whether or not the smiles will hold.
Eyes still,
eyes wrinkles crinkling,
spit spray sprinkling.
Connect to the dreamers.
Push your plug into
my cracking wall sockets,
pull me apart at the seams.

So cries the doorstopper!
Knees bleed from
street corner séances
and eyes green grass
that's afraid to ask
where its clover went
but heavens, it's bent for hell.
Pray tell me, burping chickadee,
when did your teeth glass over
with a film of cerulean and
your bones start sailing
through tepid reminders that
you may end this life a failure,
swallowing Uncle Ben's rice packet trash
at the dark black bottom of the Pacific?

So sighs the statue!
Broken walkie talkies
feed red back to nothing
and knick knack hoarders note
the familiar festering of deadly bacteria
in the lungs and on the
tippy top of the tongue.
Space cadets rocket
through concrete jungles containing
apartment after
apartment after
apartment filled with
mannequins filled with
sand filled with
unevenly severed hands.

So speaks the ornament!
So declares the dashboard decal!
Sensual scholarly seekers
seem so totally hip
and read feminist poetry
to dispel the myths
and spit on the irony.
I won't dare to flatter you
with the focused attention of stone
or allow the personable picture frame
to make the secrets of
the microscopic universe known.

So suggests the ship siren!
So recites the repository!
Empty yourself into me,
adopt a new philosophy,
abandon in within two weeks
so I can see and you can seep,
your fluttering robin heart to keep
and glaciers to arrive upon
a salty brown eternal sleep.
Deliver me to the melting shopping mall!
The centennial fire alarm goes off
at the tip of the cliff,
at the end of the hall.
-marcesibleghost Jul 2014
You know it’s nothing but emptiness,
When you fail phrasing your feelings in words.
Other people might call it love rather than emptiness.

But let me tell you this:
Without emptiness,
We wouldn’t find warmth in love.

Some say love is frigidly cold,
Some say love is fondly warm.
Yet as seasons change from Summer to Winter,
Love will too.

And I’ve reached the point where I stopped seeking for love in people,
But in invisible objects that can keep me alive.

Can invisible objects really keep you alive?
Or will they leave you terrified?

Well, a definition for ‘Invisible Objects’ would be:
‘Emotions’.
And in the end,
Their purpose is to Not. Keep. You. Alive.
Andrea Baca Jun 2014
Describe beauty to me.
Because it is some thing to be beautiful and another to have an object with sparing "0"'s attached to it.
Cassandra Leigh Jun 2014
I am seen more frequently as an object than a human being
People act as if there is no soul inside the mannequin they're seeing

I am referred to by things like "****, beautiful, and Honey"
When I answer with offence they say they're only being funny

I walk away feeling degraded with an overwhelming sense of shame
Strangers make me hate myself and never learn my name

To hear a ****** cat call sends a shiver down my spine
to be objectified is understated, and society says it's fine

It makes me sick when I am treated like a piece of meat
My one solution is to cut two eye holes in an old bed sheet

When strangers say I'm pretty I no longer feel an ere of confidence and pride
I feel a need to run away, be alone, and hide
I've been facing a lot of discrimination, and ****** harassment lately. When you are in a position like this often times people are too afraid to speak up. I know I've been, so I guess I'll let it out here.
CE Thompson May 2014
the ten dollar bill is folded over on itself
she cannot see the zero, only the one before it
as it sits there undisturbed beside the empty bottles
one beer, one water
one prescription lotion
cap still lying open as the
comfort inside hardens into dust
and the room is full of nothing at all
but the empty and the misinterpreted
as she lay there staring in the still silence of life
no noise, no light
no sign of motion
in the entire house but the
gentle tap of her fractured fingers against her leg

— The End —