#mny - Hello Poetry

Oxblood lips. A slit in the center. A distraught film. Shattered pieces that mimic her wounds. She cries for sorrow and weeps in the name of agony. Flashback. High voltage. Dawn's dew left a Seoul night in the hands of mischief. He watched her golden legs in his dingy shirt. She danced in a tunnel of head lights. His eyes. Oh, God, his realm of roses. A spectrum so broad- no force could obtain. 70s misfit. Shaggy rugs. A cheap bottle of Merlot. Kaleidoscope kisses. Craved like a hieroglyphic. He was her warrior. Plummeting grains of virtue into a dust oriented cushion...seven dollars and thirty one cents. I saw the light bulb touch the birch-wood floral. I could feel a thick metallic wind roar. Breaking the depths. A rugged man with a festive beard. His cheeks of stained silicone lipstick. He had shipped off his soul. He was a white man with a grip of steel. "Who put cookies in the watering bucket?" A naive response. "A wicked man with a lustful cavity." Erosion.Despair.Angst. Thin braids housed a blooming mind. Paint chips splattered the table top, plastering it. Morning.Good morning to luxury. What a splendid contrast. A lantern lit van took the highway by 65 miles. And all the while he never looked back.

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Feb 17, 2016

Feb 17, 2016 at 9:13 AM UTC

shesisdecieved

Dutch Motel

Oxblood lips. A slit in the center. A distraught film. Shattered pieces that mimic her wounds. She cries for sorrow and weeps in the name of agony. Flashback. High voltage. Dawn's dew left a Seoul night in the hands of mischief. He watched her golden legs in his dingy shirt. She danced in a tunnel of head lights. His eyes. Oh, God, his realm of roses. A spectrum so broad- no force could obtain. 70s misfit. Shaggy rugs. A cheap bottle of Merlot. Kaleidoscope kisses. Craved like a hieroglyphic. He was her warrior. Plummeting grains of virtue into a dust oriented cushion...seven dollars and thirty one cents. I saw the light bulb touch the birch-wood floral. I could feel a thick metallic wind roar. Breaking the depths. A rugged man with a festive beard. His cheeks of stained silicone lipstick. He had shipped off his soul. He was a white man with a grip of steel. "Who put cookies in the watering bucket?" A naive response. "A wicked man with a lustful cavity." Erosion.Despair.Angst. Thin braids housed a blooming mind. Paint chips splattered the table top, plastering it. Morning.Good morning to luxury. What a splendid contrast. A lantern lit van took the highway by 65 miles. And all the while he never looked back.

1

Yearn for a forgiving touch For I crave you on this day Can you address me yes?

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Feb 16, 2016

Feb 16, 2016 at 3:46 PM UTC

shesisdecieved

The Aftermath

Yearn for a forgiving touch For I crave you on this day Can you address me yes?

3

We house intimate thoughts built upon contrasting poles. Echos of raging laughter; scratching against crystalline memories. Halted ache. Stagnant sorrow. I lay awake. The dimensions of my head sinks into the pillow like a solvent. Dissolving. A chemical combustion. As time lapses depression becomes me. Self-implicated torture. We negate apologies for a decadent virtue.

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Feb 16, 2016

Feb 16, 2016 at 3:44 PM UTC

shesisdecieved

Ricochet

We house intimate thoughts built upon contrasting poles. Echos of raging laughter; scratching against crystalline memories. Halted ache. Stagnant sorrow. I lay awake. The dimensions of my head sinks into the pillow like a solvent. Dissolving. A chemical combustion. As time lapses depression becomes me. Self-implicated torture. We negate apologies for a decadent virtue.

1

Let my body be your obstacle Whisper- Ignite Steer my conscious mind May the stars alignment navigate you And make cumbersome love under the lavender tree

0

Feb 16, 2016

Feb 16, 2016 at 3:35 PM UTC

shesisdecieved

Gilded Despairity

Let my body be your obstacle Whisper- Ignite Steer my conscious mind May the stars alignment navigate you And make cumbersome love under the lavender tree

6

Cut- Raw Up, over, down What I want, you. Is an understatement You are a rose, petals so Brittle, non-flourishment Our feelings are a draw-bridge An essence. A spark. The most hyper-active form of devastation Blades of confessions Timid rejections My imagination lingers Victim, you are not Nor a cob-web in a bed of lies Trapped. But a strike of cyan sensation Misplaced Mystic, Brave What is your depth? Sharpen your arrow to hunt words that went Adrift.

0

Feb 16, 2016

Feb 16, 2016 at 3:29 PM UTC

shesisdecieved

Astray

Cut- Raw Up, over, down What I want, you. Is an understatement You are a rose, petals so Brittle, non-flourishment Our feelings are a draw-bridge An essence. A spark. The most hyper-active form of devastation Blades of confessions Timid rejections My imagination lingers Victim, you are not Nor a cob-web in a bed of lies Trapped. But a strike of cyan sensation Misplaced Mystic, Brave What is your depth? Sharpen your arrow to hunt words that went Adrift.

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