My words drip colors:
They do not breathe
Through consonants and vowels;
They do not seethe
With passion or sorrow;
They do not aim like arrows;
They do not trip on talons.
My words make chaos:
My bones and marrow;
They slip and spill
Through cracks so narrow;
The raising of an eyebrow;
The mumble through a mouthful.
My words come back to me:
They find release in hands and fists,
(that hit and hit and hit)
They seek reprieve in tears and drinks,
(that drip and drip and drip)
They bloom like flowers
(not on my lips as I speak -
but upon elbows and knees)
My words drip colors, and so color me.
I feel your soft lips.
I see the sparkle in your eyes.
I hear the sound of your voice.
My heart is crushed by this choice.
We have this amazing connection.
Such a magnetic attraction.
You feed my mind with words
I'd like to hear.
You make me feel stronger
without any fear.
Please get out of my head.
I say to myself as I lay in my bed.
You make me feel weak.
Because you are in my heart.
Controlling every heartbeat.
it was a crisp, cutting sporadic cycle
to stumble upon our old friends
we don't laugh the same no more
getting used to the set of
piteous, huggy faces
catapulting such soft apologies
and it's become so generic like
one's crest has fallen
how could all this seems like
a lurking of a heart's entombment
that requires victims of this
where is the relieve, in any of this?
By Arcassin Burnham
Get up off your ass and do something,
cause you don't need to shy away like that,
give them ambition as it was intended,
you're conscious,you know how to make your mind up
the next 90 minutes I want you to dance and let your troubles go,
let the giggles out,
let the world know,
you're not afraid to be who you are,
that's how the story should go,
I'll be the friend you need when there's no way out,
let me build a dam for you when there's no drought,
it's five o' clock in the morning what are we doing now?
We're fixing all your problems without a little doubt.
As if I could speak
And I can hear my words
Stumble upon each other
Like blind puppies
As if I could feel
And I fear my heart
Breaking and crumbling
Like eggshells between your fingers
As if anyone could hear
My words drying out
Upon the closed eyes
Of the ignorant
I finally understood
through these echoes of
they never actually got easier
it has become a little of my own
liberal, warm calamity
to keep undoing the loathing
of killing its own bitter,
fateful spirits on a warm plate
needing my sanity back
I’ll spread the weary load on
another sort of pinfold
so I don’t see myself sitting for hours
in the shower again