I can still feel his lips on mine,
pressing down, hungry.
"Might as well get it over with,"
Create a myth.
I've kissed someone.
A boy, come one.
After it, I felt
Like I had delt
With a welt
As sad as time,
With such anger, it should be a crime,
And now the search for the wall to climb.
I kissed someone.
It doesn't mean I'm a slut.
I wrote you a note at 5 am,
you read it,
with no reply.
Before you left you asked for a picture of the two of us.
I made a joke and we laughed through the pictures.
But all that I could think about was
how it felt to have your arm around me.
It was holding me,
as I held you.
I wish I could go back to that moment,
but it's gone.
When we said our goodbyes,
it hurt so much.
I wanted to tell you so many things,
but time was running out.
I hugged you so many times,
you thought it was strange.
As soon as you walked away,
my heart felt empty;
I missed your presence already.
We touched hands as you drove away
in that big green van.
I ran after you,
as did other friends.
But you were gone.
I can still see your eyes gazing into mine,
and your oh so sweet smile;
but you're gone.
Nowhere to be seen.
Water fills the cup. If it is too strong,
its flow will either break it or bounce back.
i’m not welcome here
anymore. the ground is
calling calling calling
my name in your voice.
i grab yellow roses-
did you know Van Gogh
ate yellow paint once?
people said it was because
he thought it would make
him happy, but he was
trying to kill himself.
i pin the flowers to my dress
because i want something
beautiful to die with me.
god knows i’m not.
i’m coming down to get
you, darling. i hope the concrete
hurts. you’re worth it.
Stars in paint, crackled glaze
walk the cobbled street with me.
ochre, blue and wizened haze,
A swirling canvas galaxy.
Light my broken dawn, my love
darkened hours, quiet night
bring me all the skies above
and drape the dim and pale moonlight.
Sadness, silence, watered cheeks
sunflowers waving in the dirt
charcoal clouded, ever bleek,
dark storms brew like bruises hurt.
Dewy glass and fired ale
absinthe daydream, starry night
touch my arm, porcelain frail
pale skin and paler light.
Constriction wracks my chest
Eyesight fading out at best
Drowing out my screams
They don't know what i mean
Cold are we
The crowd is sundered
With a sound of thunder
Black metal plating
Hidden by color
Sterile and voiceless
The second freezes and the door explodes
One or two to every home
The crowd plays on
A silver show
And all of mine
are on their own
The masks are on
of every song
The Loss of feeling
I have no doubt
And they are carried off
A few rounds pop off
The music stops
For a split second order holds everyone still as stone
Then my life is taken before my naked eyes
And I wake up here, alone, surrounded by the flock
My heart has been torn from my chest
God give me strength
She, Rachel, was mentioned in passing,
In a letter addressed to his brother, Theo.
She was just a girl that he had maybe loved.
Maybe more than loved. he didn't really know her,
But we would later learn how far he would go.
What's more than loved? felt possessive towards?
Felt protective of? idolized? worshipped?
These all sound unbalanced.
Some people enjoy that passion.
The yellow house crumbled underneath of it.
That unbalance must be balanced.
It can balance the world.
It can scare you to death.
It can push people away.
In time, it did all of these things.
He lived where tulips grow as rows of rainbows
And beards in winter kept his face warm and orange.
Where the water rests high above his head.
Where windmills turn to mill the fields of wheat.
Influenced by spirituality found in potatoes
Being consumed under dim light.
Influenced by the subtly curved right angles of elderly woman
Hunched over, farming the famished fields.
Repeatedly painting vases of turning souls, tournesol.
Influenced by color as we don't tend to notice,
Influenced by starlight behind a cypress night,
Influenced by the ideals of an eastern world and
Almond blossoms against a blue sky.
He was mad. a genius.
A man outside his time.
He gave her his ear; the whole thing,
Except for a partial earlobe.
He put it in a box for her
And delivered it personally.
Hoping she would listen.
At least thats what i like to think.
'Cause why the fuck else would you cut
Your damn ear off and give it to someone
You only know from a distance?
Maybe it was just to hear he voice.