#graphite
I drag his
lungs
into a
loose blackness.
い い い い
They crumple
at the margins
as I bloat them
full of dust.
い い い い
I wash water on them
so that they
settle
like ink.
い い い い
His lungs can
breathe
on my paper,
unbroken.
Dec 10, 2019
Dec 10, 2019 at 9:43 PM UTC
We all speak the same language
but communication is dead.
A barrier of understanding
built from graphite and lead.
An impasse of meaning
wreaks havoc in our heads.
We all speak the same language
yet,
I don't know what you said.
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 1:46 PM UTC
When I met you, I was a draft.
An artwork to never be complete.
My eyes of charcoal
My veins of graphite
No color flowed through me for I was
Lifeless.
You opened up to me
You redesigned my thoughts.
Your paintbrush stroked a bright blush onto my cheeks
You turned me into
Bright pastels
With glorious indigos
Overwhelming scarlets
And mysterious lavenders.
You kissed me in a backdrop of
Forest greens.
You created scenery for
Every emotion,
Dressed me with rainbows,
And completed my blank spaces.
You turned me into a masterpiece.
But before you could sign your
Glorious painting
You realized
You could do better pieces
And pastel was over rated anyways.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
This bold mahogany dawn never retires
Buckets of roses unfold along the slopes of this graphite mountain
Smoke stirs from the cave wall paintings
Where wild horses lead the feral battles of yesterday
The most vulnerable humans could ever be is now
With four eyes and four arms open.
She might be as wet as a blonde Swedish shark- no matter.
The best and worst of life comes from the sacred triangle
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 5:18 AM UTC
Write about me
Hold the pencil (as if)
It were my waist
Whisper of your mishaps
as if I were a page
And as your guilt trips
exude the bitterness
of your heart...
allow me to explain
why you're in my thoughts
(But)
Graphite can decipher
yet so little
To write about you
(Your feelings aloof)
Would be the story
at minimal
So, I hold the Pencil
Loosely, without claim
I refuse to explain lust
...
Next Time I write,
It'll be about us
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
Too lazy to decipher scrawl,
she took to typing.
But graphite gratified,
thunderbolts struck her empty.
Nostalgic for
the soothing scratch of pencil
as a child cloistered,
shuffled between states,
who translated her life
to pass the days.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC