#acidicpoems
remnants of old
conversations
mimic forgotten
fossils, and I
spend my sacred time
sifting through the remains,
trying to find what
exactly we left behind.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 8:50 PM UTC
If you crave
discovering the pit
of fire,
shower the floor
with your coverings
and summon lust
under white linen
while my hungry
eyes make a
meal of you.
Or, if you
fantasize of glowing
gates drenched in
golden glory,
keep silent
prayers tucked under
your tongue,
and don’t let
God hear you
say my name.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
with your sparkling eyes
like crystal ****
and tranquilizing words
smoother than
****** gliding in innocent
veins,
you should stay away
from dark alleys and
promiscuous street corners.
above all else,
avoid her greedy fingers-
She's a user.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 4:09 PM UTC
"I'll take a bullet for you, just not from you."
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
haunting frights slur,
convincing a tired,
throbbing spine to
stumble away from
memories lost in
the unforgiving happy
hours of continuous,
cheap brown lager.
young, blonde pigtails
tap weary broad shoulders
and mumble under
bubble-gum breath:
“strong bones won’t
do a corpse
any **** good.”
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
after you left,
anxiety attacks threw my body
into a fitful quake- a tremble
my bed couldn't suppress.
and to ease my aching mind
about your absence from
within familiar walls,
I splattered blood, red crimson
chemicals on bitten nails.
they shimmer, yet
there's still nothing
beautiful about this
painted lady.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 7:39 PM UTC
*when your cold
fingers get the
chance, let their
haunting abilities
of ink dance
across the fine
white of paper
and choreograph
what it's like
to dance in
the vast nothingness
of an inevitability
you were too
curious to prolong.*
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
A
broken record
melodiously repeating
the same phrase
to a constant rhythm:
“I love you”
“I love you,”
And
a timid ear eager
in pace to halt the
sounds of the music’s
delicate reassurance
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 6:14 PM UTC
Luminous starshine drips
from the sky and
cascades freely toward
the mundane world
and
,with no hesitation,
ceaselessly pours enchanting
inspiration into the
empty wasteland that
is
my ink pen.
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 8:53 PM UTC
What a piece
of mental sanctuary
your name held
before you thought
of traveling to
the door.
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 7:17 PM UTC
Your tires sped off
in the direction of tomorrow
while I sat below a streetlight in
the wasteland of yesterday.
Its artificial glow created
silhouettes of occasional by-passers.
(Their footsteps scraped against cold
pavement and the sound reverberated
in my ears like your name.)
Car engines echoed from blocks
over and I mistook them as whispers
from ghosts of our clouded past- reminding me
that we were both once children of the open road;
although, I’m now orphaned on familiar lines of double yellow.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 12:03 PM UTC
I should have realized my heart was thin, fragile
paper before you wrote
on its surface in pen.
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
My thoughts are contaminated with an unknown radiation
and the blood in my veins feels as if it has have been replaced
by toxic sludge.
There are ink stains on the bedding where my body rested
from the times were my quarantined mind was deprived of slumber, for further testing.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 12:24 PM UTC
I never wanted to be writer,
but you no longer craved
my deepest affections,
so I melted them down
into black ink and pressed
them against an inviting
skin of paper.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 12:25 PM UTC
You could illuminate as bright as the North Star
but you're settling for a shine as insignificant as
a street light in a crowded city.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
He turned away from you while you were on the ground
with bruises on your face lying with a puddle of blood next
to your cheek on the floor. With plead in your eyes, you glanced
his way because you thought this was love and you wanted more.
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC
He paints the setting sky with his bare hands;
Shades of orange bursting with the same
vibrancy as the life in his smile.
Crimson of a passion bleeding out of open wounds so
deep I believe his soul is fathomless.
Pinks like soft lips planting kisses along the curve
of a body he has yet to till.
Cerulean matching irises of eyes lighting up in
the sunshine he bestows through an
inescapable darkness.
A spectrum into existence by his design-
I tell him everything created is art.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 1:06 AM UTC
I imagine- in the darkest shadows of midnight-
a garden enchanted by the magic of pixie dust.
Here, love is a blossoming rose eager to open
it’s petals; underneath, we are the soil, allowing it grow.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 1:04 PM UTC
I feel strongly for a
boy with eyes the color of
bullets
and with biceps built strong
like bolts in the armor
of a tank.
He wears stains of dirt
on calloused hands from
years
of digging plots 6 feet down.
(He thought his name
would be on the tombstones.)
Behind a small smile
and a boisterous laugh,
the affliction rages on. He is the army
of one, battling against an enemy
he’ll see only in the reflection of
his dog tag.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 5:31 PM UTC
Every cut on my paper heart
bled crimson love for the boy
with scissor hands.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 10:01 AM UTC