#bottle - Hello Poetry

#bottle

The house is quiet with your gone, your name still caught in every wall. I tried to face it sober once— the grief was louder than it all. So I leaned into the burning glass, let silence blur, let memory bend, each drink a step away from you, each night pretending not to end. But morning breaks the fragile lie— you’re gone, the truth comes crashing through. No bottle drowns the shape of loss, it only deepens missing you.

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Mar 18

Mar 18, 2026 at 1:14 PM UTC

The house is quiet with your gone, your name still caught in every wall. I tried to face it sober once— the grief was louder than it all. So I leaned into the burning glass, let silence blur, let memory bend, each drink a step away from you, each night pretending not to end. But morning breaks the fragile lie— you’re gone, the truth comes crashing through. No bottle drowns the shape of loss, it only deepens missing you.

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I want to Scream Kick Yell Throw Hit Jump Show you my true self. And all I can do is Cry Stand Isolate Pray. I want to paint the walls with my vibrant emotions To show you the damage you caused in me. But I dont want to lose you. Or I'll be alone again. But if I keep bottling up My vivarium will fill with toxic fumes And **** me from the inside out. So decide to listen with a gentle ear Or die trying to put my fire out.

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Mar 16

Mar 16, 2026 at 9:51 AM UTC

I want to Scream Kick Yell Throw Hit Jump Show you my true self. And all I can do is Cry Stand Isolate Pray. I want to paint the walls with my vibrant emotions To show you the damage you caused in me. But I dont want to lose you. Or I'll be alone again. But if I keep bottling up My vivarium will fill with toxic fumes And **** me from the inside out. So decide to listen with a gentle ear Or die trying to put my fire out.

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a note in a cracked champagne bottle A Poem by Colton Warr I yearned for you long before you ever knew, Before my name meant anything to you, I carried it quiet, like something I stole, A bright, aching spark in the dark of my soul. My heart is champagne meant to burst into light, To laugh in your hands on a warm summer night, But somewhere along all the waiting and strain, A crack found its way through the glass of my pain. Now every soft feeling escapes with a hiss, Each word I don’t say tastes a little like this, Like sweetness gone flat, like a cork never freed, Like joy that arrived far too early to be. You speak of your dreams, you speak of your fears, Of people who held you through years upon years. I nod like a friend, I smile like I’m fine, While adoring you lives in the marrow of my spine. If bottles could speak, if glass could confess, Mine would be shaking with all I suppress. A note swims inside it, written in truth, In ink made of longing and leftover youth. But I fear if I open what’s breaking in me, The spill would be more than you’d care to see. So I let it go quiet, I let it grow old, This love losing bubbles, this warmth turning cold. Still, somewhere inside the cracked, fragile shell, The champagne remembers how joy used to swell. And I adore you like that, unspoken, unfree, A celebration you never knew waited for thee. Part 2 (Champagne Stains) I carry my love the way a party carries its last hour, quietly, with the lights dimmed, confetti bruised underfoot, music still breathing but tired. You don’t know this. You smile at me like a passerby smiles at a window display, not realizing the glass is warm from someone standing too close for too long. My heart is a cracked champagne bottle, once sealed for celebration, meant to be opened with laughter and a gasp of surprise. Now there’s a fracture along the neck, thin, almost polite, leaking its fizz into the air before anyone can toast. I keep the bottle anyway. I tell myself cracks are proof of pressure, of joy waiting too hard. Inside, the bubbles still rise, still believing they’ll reach your lips. You talk to me about your days, about the weather, about people you loved out loud. Each word is a fingertip tapping the glass, and I pretend it doesn’t ring. If I could, I’d slip this poem to you, a folded note drifting in sweetness, let it wash up at your feet when you least expect it. But the bottle is flawed, and I am afraid of the spill, afraid that once opened, there will be nothing left to save. So I stand here, fizzing quietly, celebration postponed, adoring you in the way oceans love shores they’re not allowed to cross, endlessly, patiently, leaving everything I am in the sound of breaking bubbles you never hear. Part 3 (uncorked) I keep my love sealed deep inside of this glass, A champagne heart I dare not yet unseal, The bubbles climb, insisting they must pass, Each rising spark revealing what I feel. A crack runs thin along the bottles side, A fault line drawn by time I cannot slow, The pressure builds; my silence can’t abide, The fizzing truth that’s begging me to go. I’m running out of time to play it safe, The cork is tired of hearing me pretend, If I don’t pour it now the glass will break, And spill a love I never got to send. I have two glasses waiting on the table, One meant for me, one meant to meet your hand, So drink with me while it’s still a fable- Before the bottle breaks, please understand.

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Jan 1

Jan 1, 2026 at 11:39 AM UTC

a note in a cracked champagne bottle pt 1,2 and 3

a note in a cracked champagne bottle A Poem by Colton Warr I yearned for you long before you ever knew, Before my name meant anything to you, I carried it quiet, like something I stole, A bright, aching spark in the dark of my soul. My heart is champagne meant to burst into light, To laugh in your hands on a warm summer night, But somewhere along all the waiting and strain, A crack found its way through the glass of my pain. Now every soft feeling escapes with a hiss, Each word I don’t say tastes a little like this, Like sweetness gone flat, like a cork never freed, Like joy that arrived far too early to be. You speak of your dreams, you speak of your fears, Of people who held you through years upon years. I nod like a friend, I smile like I’m fine, While adoring you lives in the marrow of my spine. If bottles could speak, if glass could confess, Mine would be shaking with all I suppress. A note swims inside it, written in truth, In ink made of longing and leftover youth. But I fear if I open what’s breaking in me, The spill would be more than you’d care to see. So I let it go quiet, I let it grow old, This love losing bubbles, this warmth turning cold. Still, somewhere inside the cracked, fragile shell, The champagne remembers how joy used to swell. And I adore you like that, unspoken, unfree, A celebration you never knew waited for thee. Part 2 (Champagne Stains) I carry my love the way a party carries its last hour, quietly, with the lights dimmed, confetti bruised underfoot, music still breathing but tired. You don’t know this. You smile at me like a passerby smiles at a window display, not realizing the glass is warm from someone standing too close for too long. My heart is a cracked champagne bottle, once sealed for celebration, meant to be opened with laughter and a gasp of surprise. Now there’s a fracture along the neck, thin, almost polite, leaking its fizz into the air before anyone can toast. I keep the bottle anyway. I tell myself cracks are proof of pressure, of joy waiting too hard. Inside, the bubbles still rise, still believing they’ll reach your lips. You talk to me about your days, about the weather, about people you loved out loud. Each word is a fingertip tapping the glass, and I pretend it doesn’t ring. If I could, I’d slip this poem to you, a folded note drifting in sweetness, let it wash up at your feet when you least expect it. But the bottle is flawed, and I am afraid of the spill, afraid that once opened, there will be nothing left to save. So I stand here, fizzing quietly, celebration postponed, adoring you in the way oceans love shores they’re not allowed to cross, endlessly, patiently, leaving everything I am in the sound of breaking bubbles you never hear. Part 3 (uncorked) I keep my love sealed deep inside of this glass, A champagne heart I dare not yet unseal, The bubbles climb, insisting they must pass, Each rising spark revealing what I feel. A crack runs thin along the bottles side, A fault line drawn by time I cannot slow, The pressure builds; my silence can’t abide, The fizzing truth that’s begging me to go. I’m running out of time to play it safe, The cork is tired of hearing me pretend, If I don’t pour it now the glass will break, And spill a love I never got to send. I have two glasses waiting on the table, One meant for me, one meant to meet your hand, So drink with me while it’s still a fable- Before the bottle breaks, please understand.

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QUEEN Afareen designed a perfume bottle she herself exuded a scent of untainted ambergris, orris wafted as her heavenly cue lime with jasmine spritz her exuberant hue a black swan neck curved crystal female form this bottle crafted in alexandrite, mirroring her pharaoh shaped silhouette, gold sun rays embedded facade, stopper of opal warm ruby inlays rested languidly at bottle base slivers of pearl and aquamarine laced replica of Aphrodite she encased in Myanmar teak, sculpted with elk ivory, reclining bottle in Muga silk before a river lilting lily wattle then gifted herself her own bottle, liquid tomb nimble fingers twisting opal top for perfume her unique irreplaceable exuding essence imperceptibly drifting reverent presence drinking the last undistilled drops from edenic perfume bottle, QUEEN Afareen extinguished herself gracefully into muscled arms of Adonis, as bottle drifted downstream towards turquoise ocean emptied, beamed a sorrowed counterploy buried, it screamed Copyright: GhairoDanielsPoetry ____________

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Sep 26, 2025

Sep 26, 2025 at 6:00 AM UTC

QUEEN Afareen designed a perfume bottle she herself exuded a scent of untainted ambergris, orris wafted as her heavenly cue lime with jasmine spritz her exuberant hue a black swan neck curved crystal female form this bottle crafted in alexandrite, mirroring her pharaoh shaped silhouette, gold sun rays embedded facade, stopper of opal warm ruby inlays rested languidly at bottle base slivers of pearl and aquamarine laced replica of Aphrodite she encased in Myanmar teak, sculpted with elk ivory, reclining bottle in Muga silk before a river lilting lily wattle then gifted herself her own bottle, liquid tomb nimble fingers twisting opal top for perfume her unique irreplaceable exuding essence imperceptibly drifting reverent presence drinking the last undistilled drops from edenic perfume bottle, QUEEN Afareen extinguished herself gracefully into muscled arms of Adonis, as bottle drifted downstream towards turquoise ocean emptied, beamed a sorrowed counterploy buried, it screamed Copyright: GhairoDanielsPoetry ____________

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Trotoar yang basah karena es yang mencair, Ungkapan penyesalan beserta cacian terlontarkan. Seseorang memilih hidup di masa lalu, Seseorang yang ingin merubah semuanya, Seseorang yang ingin mencari tujuan, Kita semua punya dosa masing-masing bukan "Kami tertawa kami sepakat ini semua baru permulaan." Beberapa pria sulit menceritakan hal buruk yang terjadi pada dirinya, Beberapa dari kita terjebak dalam rutinitas yang tidak pernah kita sukai, Pola yang berulang setiap pekan. 21 yang menyebalkan, namun penuh pelajaran Kami melempar dadu yang sama berkali-kali dan menebak angka yang salah, Kami anggap ini skakmat kehidupan Menunggu dimakan atau membalas menyerang. 2025 reydmh

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May 19, 2025

May 19, 2025 at 3:23 PM UTC

Pagar besi & botol hijau

Trotoar yang basah karena es yang mencair, Ungkapan penyesalan beserta cacian terlontarkan. Seseorang memilih hidup di masa lalu, Seseorang yang ingin merubah semuanya, Seseorang yang ingin mencari tujuan, Kita semua punya dosa masing-masing bukan "Kami tertawa kami sepakat ini semua baru permulaan." Beberapa pria sulit menceritakan hal buruk yang terjadi pada dirinya, Beberapa dari kita terjebak dalam rutinitas yang tidak pernah kita sukai, Pola yang berulang setiap pekan. 21 yang menyebalkan, namun penuh pelajaran Kami melempar dadu yang sama berkali-kali dan menebak angka yang salah, Kami anggap ini skakmat kehidupan Menunggu dimakan atau membalas menyerang. 2025 reydmh

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You can't pour wine from an empty Bottle, the pop-up ad tells me. I laugh. I laugh as the cracks At its bottom cut into My palm; I pour you Another glass. It's all red anyway. Who cares what that AI has to say.

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Mar 22, 2025

Mar 22, 2025 at 10:30 AM UTC

You can't pour wine from an empty Bottle, the pop-up ad tells me. I laugh. I laugh as the cracks At its bottom cut into My palm; I pour you Another glass. It's all red anyway. Who cares what that AI has to say.

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I can't focus on us anymore it feels like a dream we once had rather than a lifetime we worked on You once made me feel precious, invaluable, loved. Now I'm the fall back and safety net you need to desire before you hit the bottom of your bottle I am miserable trying to hold the foundation alone. I was looking for a life partner, not a freeloading liar. You promised me change. I was the fool who believed you and saw with my own eyes you didn't touch a drop. Now I'm left with the empty bottle in my hands, searching for an escape from my isolation.

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Nov 16, 2024

Nov 16, 2024 at 11:29 AM UTC

Alcoholic Promises

I can't focus on us anymore it feels like a dream we once had rather than a lifetime we worked on You once made me feel precious, invaluable, loved. Now I'm the fall back and safety net you need to desire before you hit the bottom of your bottle I am miserable trying to hold the foundation alone. I was looking for a life partner, not a freeloading liar. You promised me change. I was the fool who believed you and saw with my own eyes you didn't touch a drop. Now I'm left with the empty bottle in my hands, searching for an escape from my isolation.

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What's family mean? Bottles holding hearts hostage Won't hold our love back

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Oct 1, 2023

Oct 1, 2023 at 2:20 AM UTC

What's This Family? (Senyrū)

What's family mean? Bottles holding hearts hostage Won't hold our love back

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20 years and a Bottle, not much has changed between the mother rubbing whiskey on her infant's gums and the girl that stands tall now drinking it from a cup.

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Mar 23, 2023

Mar 23, 2023 at 11:43 AM UTC

20 years and a Bottle, not much has changed between the mother rubbing whiskey on her infant's gums and the girl that stands tall now drinking it from a cup.

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i trudged through frozen rivers passed through red oceans i bottled up my feelings and tossed them into the wrathful sea fishing ships skimming through the vibrant bay caught wind of my hopeless message floating meters away from where they cast their nets tiny thoughts floating through levels of salty sea foam, devoured by the vicious waves breaking, scattering and tossing seaweed into the briny air “land ** they bellowed, tying a thin rope to the side of the vessel wonder if that truly makes a difference or that the boats just don’t really desire to depart with unwashed fingers and hands, they ripped the bottle from the ocean’s greedy grasp observing it with curiosity, they tapped on the glass of the object the bottle cap popped open, revealing the suspicious contents pouring it out onto the dock, they whispered when they saw the small yellowish letter lying flat; my letter the captain read it to himself quietly and deemed it unnecessary to repeat to the rest of the crewmen “perhaps, it is time to rest. the moon is almost at her peak.” the captain uttered a couple words, for he was astonished such a hopeless thing could float ironically in the most teeming ecosystem to ever exist my feelings were daggers, and not knowing where they originated from worried the captain but everyone rises and falls everyone lives and dies everyone hopes and becomes hopeless water carries secrets, and in that, it holds stories -happy ever afters don’t exist in the ocean

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Aug 3, 2022

Aug 3, 2022 at 3:09 PM UTC

the floating bottle

i trudged through frozen rivers passed through red oceans i bottled up my feelings and tossed them into the wrathful sea fishing ships skimming through the vibrant bay caught wind of my hopeless message floating meters away from where they cast their nets tiny thoughts floating through levels of salty sea foam, devoured by the vicious waves breaking, scattering and tossing seaweed into the briny air “land ** they bellowed, tying a thin rope to the side of the vessel wonder if that truly makes a difference or that the boats just don’t really desire to depart with unwashed fingers and hands, they ripped the bottle from the ocean’s greedy grasp observing it with curiosity, they tapped on the glass of the object the bottle cap popped open, revealing the suspicious contents pouring it out onto the dock, they whispered when they saw the small yellowish letter lying flat; my letter the captain read it to himself quietly and deemed it unnecessary to repeat to the rest of the crewmen “perhaps, it is time to rest. the moon is almost at her peak.” the captain uttered a couple words, for he was astonished such a hopeless thing could float ironically in the most teeming ecosystem to ever exist my feelings were daggers, and not knowing where they originated from worried the captain but everyone rises and falls everyone lives and dies everyone hopes and becomes hopeless water carries secrets, and in that, it holds stories -happy ever afters don’t exist in the ocean

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To whom ever finds this bottle My message is to you I want to say now I'm sorry If It sounds like I'm venting But really I just want to tell someone What's on my mind And a little about me But not know who I am telling For some reason That is comforting I myself am not the brightest bulb And I may make you want to Hit your head against a wall Sometimes many in a day Because I spoke faster than my mind Was thinking My mind is weird For if you ask something of me I know I can do it But yet my mind has a panic mode And in a way forgets how to do it Or the item you wanted me to grab I question it for some reason Even though I shouldn't have So yea I am not all that smart Sometimes I feel really ****** And just worse than dirt And it's hard because I know I am Smarter And better than that I do have my moments though Where I don't always think, rather act first But it manages to put a smile on your Face and make you giggle That usually helps to make me feel better But thinking back I feel dumb But remember that I made you smile And so I smile I try my best to do better For I love learning new things And doing anything That sounds different Or fun And an adrenaline rush I will say yes to Because that is such an amazing thrill I may not always make sense And sometimes I struggle Putting together my thoughts into sentences I get there eventually But I get there So if you're okay knowing this little Bit about me I hope this message in this bottle In your hands Finds me But if you do not wish To want to know me Then toss me back Message in bottle for someone new to find

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May 4, 2022

May 4, 2022 at 12:00 AM UTC

Message in a bottle

To whom ever finds this bottle My message is to you I want to say now I'm sorry If It sounds like I'm venting But really I just want to tell someone What's on my mind And a little about me But not know who I am telling For some reason That is comforting I myself am not the brightest bulb And I may make you want to Hit your head against a wall Sometimes many in a day Because I spoke faster than my mind Was thinking My mind is weird For if you ask something of me I know I can do it But yet my mind has a panic mode And in a way forgets how to do it Or the item you wanted me to grab I question it for some reason Even though I shouldn't have So yea I am not all that smart Sometimes I feel really ****** And just worse than dirt And it's hard because I know I am Smarter And better than that I do have my moments though Where I don't always think, rather act first But it manages to put a smile on your Face and make you giggle That usually helps to make me feel better But thinking back I feel dumb But remember that I made you smile And so I smile I try my best to do better For I love learning new things And doing anything That sounds different Or fun And an adrenaline rush I will say yes to Because that is such an amazing thrill I may not always make sense And sometimes I struggle Putting together my thoughts into sentences I get there eventually But I get there So if you're okay knowing this little Bit about me I hope this message in this bottle In your hands Finds me But if you do not wish To want to know me Then toss me back Message in bottle for someone new to find

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Our initials chiselled, With a crown cork bottle cap, Into the trunk of our favourite tree, Will the world wonder in time to come, Whatever happened to you and me?

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Jun 7, 2019

Jun 7, 2019 at 6:47 PM UTC

Our initials chiselled, With a crown cork bottle cap, Into the trunk of our favourite tree, Will the world wonder in time to come, Whatever happened to you and me?

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_Empty:_ as the word meaning a glass bottle in Africa. I'd have my fill; to the brim of life's expectations. Expected of the plenty from the very little I have given. Life is that empty, as many are trying at their fill. On the straight and narrow, of where it sits. _Hoping it won't spill._ How tall do you measure your glass view of life? Fragile are the moments; tapping on the taps of glass. _Hoping it won't crack._ This bottle is what I make of it's fill; Am I overburdened, or overflowing, with the cares of the world, or whether the Holy Spirit? A question, only with the answer from within; and as I ask from Him.

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Feb 27, 2022

Feb 27, 2022 at 6:53 AM UTC

_Empty:_ as the word meaning a glass bottle in Africa. I'd have my fill; to the brim of life's expectations. Expected of the plenty from the very little I have given. Life is that empty, as many are trying at their fill. On the straight and narrow, of where it sits. _Hoping it won't spill._ How tall do you measure your glass view of life? Fragile are the moments; tapping on the taps of glass. _Hoping it won't crack._ This bottle is what I make of it's fill; Am I overburdened, or overflowing, with the cares of the world, or whether the Holy Spirit? A question, only with the answer from within; and as I ask from Him.

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slowly chipping away my manhood with my lips pressed against the cylinder sweet and softly wrapped around ready to take the blow ridiculous in my silly little ways my desire to die was unkind the bottom of the bottle is bittersweet but only if you want it to be the salty bedrock tastes like hell life in pain is okay you're already dead that way you only left small burns in my heart I bet you never even felt that but I never cared it seems and I think that's only fair to me to believe that

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Oct 15, 2021

Oct 15, 2021 at 6:56 PM UTC

slowly chipping away my manhood with my lips pressed against the cylinder sweet and softly wrapped around ready to take the blow ridiculous in my silly little ways my desire to die was unkind the bottom of the bottle is bittersweet but only if you want it to be the salty bedrock tastes like hell life in pain is okay you're already dead that way you only left small burns in my heart I bet you never even felt that but I never cared it seems and I think that's only fair to me to believe that

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Once a year its champagne! I feel calm passionate and teary. It gets my head to Paris As life is broken down goes out in transition or revelation, there's a greàter darkness then the one we inadvertently fight, the darkness of the soul that has lost its way. I was chosen by great sages crossing paths the sting of my blindfold lingers noone sees hope or their future, or where it leads we know only that it's bought in pain and sacrifice. Letting go what I loved the most. was eternal loss, having no reparation, neither in time, nor in eternity. My love river is truth it's mouth is cosmic creation. He measured sensuality secretively, and in shadows he showed me feathers of half a man syllhuette of him, and feels guilty I just fill in blanks, why smack a devolving face? And what the heck! I first measure people in trust. then love, as true love is rare. Trust tells love where to roam. Love can't be made perfect in distrust nor fear of rivals. When I give my heart I do, When I share my dreams too. I do not drown in midnight dew not retreat; but I won't take sand in my eyes. After the loving I go from rags to riches in his love or shine to wiser horizons.. ~~~~~~~~~ Mr and Mrs Andrews. At Karijinbba

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Oct 13, 2021

Oct 13, 2021 at 10:08 PM UTC

mr-and-mrs-andrews

Gin in a bottle

Once a year its champagne! I feel calm passionate and teary. It gets my head to Paris As life is broken down goes out in transition or revelation, there's a greàter darkness then the one we inadvertently fight, the darkness of the soul that has lost its way. I was chosen by great sages crossing paths the sting of my blindfold lingers noone sees hope or their future, or where it leads we know only that it's bought in pain and sacrifice. Letting go what I loved the most. was eternal loss, having no reparation, neither in time, nor in eternity. My love river is truth it's mouth is cosmic creation. He measured sensuality secretively, and in shadows he showed me feathers of half a man syllhuette of him, and feels guilty I just fill in blanks, why smack a devolving face? And what the heck! I first measure people in trust. then love, as true love is rare. Trust tells love where to roam. Love can't be made perfect in distrust nor fear of rivals. When I give my heart I do, When I share my dreams too. I do not drown in midnight dew not retreat; but I won't take sand in my eyes. After the loving I go from rags to riches in his love or shine to wiser horizons.. ~~~~~~~~~ Mr and Mrs Andrews. At Karijinbba

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my words might wash up against your shore in torn up shreds each scribbled letter faded obscured by time obscured by rippling waves that thrash and tear each piece left vague dowsed in mystery and a lingering a longing to be read soon maybe next time i'll be mature enough to put them in a bottle.

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Apr 29, 2021

Apr 29, 2021 at 2:00 PM UTC

my words might wash up against your shore in torn up shreds each scribbled letter faded obscured by time obscured by rippling waves that thrash and tear each piece left vague dowsed in mystery and a lingering a longing to be read soon maybe next time i'll be mature enough to put them in a bottle.

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I wish I could fit myself inside a bottle, that travels across oceans sailing off with the message, earth is not home anymore and that I'm better off, living in this beautiful irony of getting by with the swelling, and the panics and the wild spasms of the waters— the only place where I could never drown.

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Jan 23, 2021

Jan 23, 2021 at 5:21 AM UTC

I wish I could fit myself inside a bottle, that travels across oceans sailing off with the message, earth is not home anymore and that I'm better off, living in this beautiful irony of getting by with the swelling, and the panics and the wild spasms of the waters— the only place where I could never drown.

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After leaving I thought I knew it all, and that’s the worst part. Because all I ever wanted was silence but now the silence pierces like a dart. And I thought I was strong to walk away from ruins- but tell me, does it take more strength to walk or build, in all honesty? And all the words I chanted to my heart are the opposite of what I now croak from the bottom of an empty bottle, from the hollow of my soul, from the redness of my eyes, from the fullness of my mind and every ounce of my wit now only proclaims, you made me a hypocrite. hypocrite | shevaun stonem

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Nov 12, 2020

Nov 12, 2020 at 10:23 AM UTC

After leaving I thought I knew it all, and that’s the worst part. Because all I ever wanted was silence but now the silence pierces like a dart. And I thought I was strong to walk away from ruins- but tell me, does it take more strength to walk or build, in all honesty? And all the words I chanted to my heart are the opposite of what I now croak from the bottom of an empty bottle, from the hollow of my soul, from the redness of my eyes, from the fullness of my mind and every ounce of my wit now only proclaims, you made me a hypocrite. hypocrite | shevaun stonem

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in a thick milk bottle a dark green one which grandfather found on the beach after the war having inside a shriveled yellow paper without any drawing without any inscription the grandmother's ashes stayed for a while grandmother being skinny the bottle was almost empty so the grandfather put the paper back in place when he missed her he took the bottle put it on his chest and spoked to her and when my grandmother had to answer him he was turning it like an hourglass and so he did for two years until he crouched too (although it was harder because he was hefty) in the milk bottle then to make room for him I finally took that sheet and I stuck it on the window when it rains on the sea and it's lightning on both sides of the paper two overlapping palms can be seen one of a woman and the other of a man crossed in filigree by a single line of life nothing else

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Oct 23, 2020

Oct 23, 2020 at 2:49 PM UTC

The Line Of Life

in a thick milk bottle a dark green one which grandfather found on the beach after the war having inside a shriveled yellow paper without any drawing without any inscription the grandmother's ashes stayed for a while grandmother being skinny the bottle was almost empty so the grandfather put the paper back in place when he missed her he took the bottle put it on his chest and spoked to her and when my grandmother had to answer him he was turning it like an hourglass and so he did for two years until he crouched too (although it was harder because he was hefty) in the milk bottle then to make room for him I finally took that sheet and I stuck it on the window when it rains on the sea and it's lightning on both sides of the paper two overlapping palms can be seen one of a woman and the other of a man crossed in filigree by a single line of life nothing else

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I'm back to not sleeping again I'm back to doing drugs without my friends I'm back to nothing An empty room An empty bottle A full head and ashtray I wish I could close my eyes and go to bed But I just can't

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Aug 27, 2020

Aug 27, 2020 at 8:33 PM UTC

I'm back to not sleeping again I'm back to doing drugs without my friends I'm back to nothing An empty room An empty bottle A full head and ashtray I wish I could close my eyes and go to bed But I just can't

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Having luck where I can achieve anything... Is like a young kid opening a bottle of their favorite bottled soda the day it first came out! Awaiting it's arrival like the coating of a nice breeze dancing throughout the company of skin coated with sweat. As the hairs with little droplets of already coated sweat came (as if a light drizzle fell over the field of endless rows of arm hair) not so long ago. Standing perfectly ***** as the sun blazes downward like a coating of sticky smog! Making the tips of the already ***** endless rows of arm hair) shine brightly with droplets bending light between it's different surfaces. Almost as if when looking through the pure liquid droplets, you see the inside of a crystal instead. A crystal fine layer with the inside of many warped and distorted angles. All the very uncomfortable effects may seem mildly dreary...at first. Except for the awaiting call of the miracle that is the sizzling bubbles popping within a still closed bottle cap of your favorite bottled soda! And that's where ALL the effects that may seem mildly dreary...at first, is usually because of the miracle that is on an "occasional" slight delay! Sincerely... The "luck" is in the young kids favorite bottled soda!

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Jul 27, 2020

Jul 27, 2020 at 8:16 PM UTC

Having luck where I can achieve anything...

Having luck where I can achieve anything... Is like a young kid opening a bottle of their favorite bottled soda the day it first came out! Awaiting it's arrival like the coating of a nice breeze dancing throughout the company of skin coated with sweat. As the hairs with little droplets of already coated sweat came (as if a light drizzle fell over the field of endless rows of arm hair) not so long ago. Standing perfectly ***** as the sun blazes downward like a coating of sticky smog! Making the tips of the already ***** endless rows of arm hair) shine brightly with droplets bending light between it's different surfaces. Almost as if when looking through the pure liquid droplets, you see the inside of a crystal instead. A crystal fine layer with the inside of many warped and distorted angles. All the very uncomfortable effects may seem mildly dreary...at first. Except for the awaiting call of the miracle that is the sizzling bubbles popping within a still closed bottle cap of your favorite bottled soda! And that's where ALL the effects that may seem mildly dreary...at first, is usually because of the miracle that is on an "occasional" slight delay! Sincerely... The "luck" is in the young kids favorite bottled soda!

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Here I sit, In my safest place, Still scared. Paranoid to spit, I must control my face, Or be impared. Falling into the pit, Must state my case, In repair.

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Jul 24, 2020

Jul 24, 2020 at 1:45 PM UTC

Here I sit, In my safest place, Still scared. Paranoid to spit, I must control my face, Or be impared. Falling into the pit, Must state my case, In repair.

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The lid of a stained glass bottle, leaves a burning sensation in my palm. What was I hoping for? Surely, this message will wrinkle- my painful words silently drifting away. And all that'd be left was my starving soul, craving to be found someday.

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Jul 20, 2020

Jul 20, 2020 at 10:40 PM UTC

Message in a Bottle

The lid of a stained glass bottle, leaves a burning sensation in my palm. What was I hoping for? Surely, this message will wrinkle- my painful words silently drifting away. And all that'd be left was my starving soul, craving to be found someday.

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A broken bottle Rubbed smooth by the ocean Tamed and beautiful

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Jun 29, 2020

Jun 29, 2020 at 9:50 AM UTC

A broken bottle Rubbed smooth by the ocean Tamed and beautiful

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Nobody looks too deep at the paintings I do Could you tell who was the person lost Who was drowning in the sea that I so much efforted to paint Me, in the coldest and fakest water alive Dead, and lost, such as a skeleton should be. I, in love, how I wanted to be; Satisfying love like lavender field in summer, Flame of a candle, warmness from the fire But frightened from the same medicine Love is overrated and unpatieful, cold as a bottle of gin Submersed in the midnight lake. I've always been afraid of falling in love, They never told were we would fall to, or where from And if so, do we land or do we keep falling? Is love an abism or a simple metaphor?

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Jun 28, 2020

Jun 28, 2020 at 10:40 PM UTC

Tomber amoureux

Nobody looks too deep at the paintings I do Could you tell who was the person lost Who was drowning in the sea that I so much efforted to paint Me, in the coldest and fakest water alive Dead, and lost, such as a skeleton should be. I, in love, how I wanted to be; Satisfying love like lavender field in summer, Flame of a candle, warmness from the fire But frightened from the same medicine Love is overrated and unpatieful, cold as a bottle of gin Submersed in the midnight lake. I've always been afraid of falling in love, They never told were we would fall to, or where from And if so, do we land or do we keep falling? Is love an abism or a simple metaphor?

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