#rusty
Wine sparkles on her tongue, in the same shade of pink
Buzzing through her lips and cheeks, warming her laughter
Gold glimmers in her eyes and around her neck
Where my jealous hands want to be, feeling her blood and breath
Jean friction at her hips, where my teeth want to gnaw
Painful heat in between, where my mouth wants to draw-
Art likened to the greats, in a language we've discovered tonight
We will never speak it again, here it will rest. Right?
Mar 2, 2022
Mar 2, 2022 at 2:25 AM UTC
If I could be brutally honest, here’s what I’d tell you. I’m tired of your mind games — the same ones you deny you do. You establish something casual but then you go on to saying and doing things that make me believe otherwise. You tell me you want me but you don’t act like it. You say you miss me but you go days without ever messaging me. You make me feel so replaceable. Disposable. You’re hot then you’re cold. You’re sweet enough to keep me around but you don’t put in the work for anything more. It scares me how you could change your mind in the blink of a second, or bat your eyes elsewhere the minute I’m gone. What makes it worse is that I know you do. You have no ******* idea how ****** it is to be outright told you’ve been ******* around with somebody else. It hurts me to know that you think you could fool me into believing all of the things you say. You don’t say it because you mean it — you say it because it’s what I want to hear. You say it because you know you have this hold over me. You say it because you know I’d cave. You don’t make me feel like I’m worth it, and you definitely don’t make me love myself more. With you, it’s just messy. Cheap thrills. Lies on top of lies. Sweet nothings whispered to my ear. ***** little secrets. Emptiness. I never expected anything from you. You give me slight doses, enough to keep me around, but never enough to assure me that this is all worth it. Don’t play with my feelings just because you’re unsure of your own. I’m not a gamble. I always thought that messing around with someone older meant that I wouldn’t be playing these games anymore but clearly you’re not mature enough to know what you want. I’m done settling for whatever this is. Get drunk, or stay sober — just keep your **** mess away from me.
Aug 9, 2021
Aug 9, 2021 at 5:19 AM UTC
She has a vintage soul,
Full of rusty and dusty memories,
With the antique eyes
That seen some terrible events,
Her beauty reflects
the Victorian epoch,
Her wisdom is such sterling that
Vanquish the wisdom of Socrates,
But the fate and destiny
Leads her in the 21st century,
She feels like an alien
Who lives in a stranger place
But for her comfort in this world,
She has her books and a coffee mug.
–Humaira
Dec 5, 2020
Dec 5, 2020 at 9:28 AM UTC
Thomas W Case's
Tom Waits Challenge
She doesn’t represent me anymore
She’s agonizingly apathetic to the core
I live by myself out back in her barn
She can no longer do me any harm
Bedbugs and scratching mice
The bare necessities will suffice
I have no need for greed or misery
I have but one ex-wife
The old windmill has frozen gears
I haven’t tilled these grounds in years
I drink and drive my old beat up truck
To the bar to try my luck
Oh those gals
With sweet love swells
All a man can use
Drunken blind
And feeling fine
And I'm not afraid to lose!
................,,.
Jun 19, 2020
Jun 19, 2020 at 7:17 AM UTC
Our names carved,
With a rusty penknife,
Into the bark of a random tree;
Just words on paper, really,
From me to you; and you to me.
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 3:27 AM UTC
You will be safe as long as I'm here with you
You don't really need me, it's true
But I'm here
I'm not what you expect in a knight
I'm not charming
I'm not super strong
I'm not even that brave
My armor is old and rusty
My sword is broken
I don't even have a horse
But for you, I will fight
For you, I would die
For you, there is nothing I wouldn't do
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 3:29 PM UTC
Not myself,
Not with those wide staring eyes.
Staring through this wall of water,
Leaking from my attic spaces.
My brain leaks fears, like a rusty tin tap.
No, not myself.
Not with these thoughts or falling tears.
Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 11:09 PM UTC
Here.
Have this.
It's a key.
But not just any key.
Maybe it's a little rusty, a little old, a little worn.
But it's yours.
And maybe sometimes if you hold it, it jabs into your hand,
But it's yours.
And maybe one day you'll lose that little key,
and you won't know where it went.
But don't worry.
This key is yours.
This key will always be yours.
Because this key, this small, old, rusty key,
is the key to my heart.
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 12:27 AM UTC
You pretend to zip your lips like
there's even a secret to spill,
as if i couldn't pry open
your mouth like a four
day old rusty paper-
clip
off an
empty
manila
folder
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 6:03 AM UTC
*We all fall apart
At the slightest disturbance*
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 8:27 PM UTC
Love is what we decide to see, it can be peace, nirvana.or a rusty blade, uncertainty or empowerment, or all these things.
Love, beauty and perfection are in the eye of the beholder.
The beholder always has outside influences, but the choice is always theirs.
Sometimes we have little control over love's strongest energy taking us over and act out of character.
Making us do thing we may never do.
like a slit neck or inner peace.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 7:18 AM UTC
One, two, three... pop
Pimples, all gone
Brush, brush, brush... swift
Any more imperfections to hide? Nope, all clear
Now tell me mirror, is it pureness that you see?
For this is not me, nor what I intend to be
Watching me grow from dauntless to wanting to appear so dear
Oh how I wish I could polish the years of society's willingness to rule me so utterly
Its' footsteps stomping its' way down my back, still, I persevere...
Tell me mirror, does it hurt?
Does it hurt witnessing me go all the way from oh so untethered to oh no, petrified of every little flaw?
Does it hurt viewing my eyes water as I double-check just to make sure?
To make sure no living soul feels intimidated by natural flaw?
If so, does it tare you little by little inside?
Forced to look me in the eye, whilst the words 'not good enough' appear on my forehead
Does it **** you more more inside as you grow old, glass getting rusty, not being able to tell me how beautiful in fact I am?
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 9:52 AM UTC
Can I have my heart back?
The one I gave you years ago.
It might be collecting dust in the corner
but I understand
Cause you never even knew that you had it all this time.
It might be a little rusty
Even broken in some parts.
But I'll make do.
Because I really need it back.
Someone came along and says he wants it.
But I did not have mine when he asked for it.
So can I please have it back?
Because I finally found someone I can share it with.
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 7:38 AM UTC
Rusty you hide your
Self silently in the woods,
Watching the passing of
Time as nature touches
Upon your body work.
You are from a forgotten
Age of style, now an echo
Of past glories, as your
Tires flat and degraded
Your going no where fast.
A gem in the rough, gold
Worthy of rust, you feel
As this was your graveyard,
But eyes have seen your
Potential, seen beyond the
Surface, beyond your rust.
You will soon ride the road
Once more, you feel the
Air once again flowing over,
The road beneath you, speed
A rush as before, even though
the trailer is coming you can
Smell the tarmac of the road.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
I haven't been able to write,
Because I haven't been feeling right.
I tried to think of something positive,
With the hopes that things will turn out ok
But the moon kept sinking,
And the sun kept rising.
Into the horizon I stared,
Hoping for a spark to appear,
A flame to ignite,
A path to be written
I don't know what I want
I don't know what I need
I don't know who I want
I don't know who I need
I don't know
But it's okay
I don't want to know
I don't need to know
I want to make the most
Out of this very moment.
Now, I feel
Infinite.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 4:03 AM UTC
brokenhearted
but still you took
this rusty nail you call a heart
and slammed into my head
you said you would be a friend to my darkness
you said you would break bread with my rage
so heart beating faster
sweat breaking on brow
still your silent
still your liars book remains unburnt
still your liars house has life
while the twin razors of your eyes stare at me out
of my history
and out of my pain sweet pain
now when you finally did speak
you poured gasoline on my heads fire
and then you ran laughin
it wont be enough to watch a pack
of wild dogs pick your bones clean
their fur matted with your stain
it wont be enough to burn your house to the ground
i'm gonna break its bones in my teeth
i'm gonna eat your world whole
can you feel my teeth on your mind
i'm eating you alive from the inside of your skull
brokenhearted this rusty nail you call
a heart is covered in my innocent blood
your filthy lies dance laughing in my eye
my ***** burn to see your house destroyed
to see your filthy book burn
this rusty nail you call a heart
i'm gonna drive it like a jackhammer into your love
like gods eyes on the hand on the wicked
i'm gonna eat your world whole
break its bones with my teeth
with my darkness
with my rage
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
Take me into the closet again
beat me with your leather book of
fallacies, conflicting messages strewn across pages
of decades
by faulted scribes, spitting glossolalia
into young children
keep the food from me, I do not need it
as I am only a child of 8
a coldness clenched my hot little body
as I drew rusty nail across pale little arm
the first time, i thought myself to be a god
your Jesus took away my sinful love
for the girl at church.
I will take it away with this nail
i tear it away
as a cold rain runs over my fire
my insides scream as my emotions numb
flightless bird am I, trapped in the nest
all I wanted was anything.
I stand small in this moment
as you lie to the school nurses about my
bruise
but in the next I am
Tallest for my struggle.
I recall every dark night
starved and worn
barred from the world, I found solace in
a rusty nail
the neighbour's dogs
the asymmetrical patterns in the carpet
the littlest flower
because that was all I could see
from my closet
window,
and that was only when I was tall enough to reach.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 4:24 PM UTC