#wickedhope
Breathe me in like your last cigarette,
because you swear you're going to quit,
as the smoke swirls past your head
and heads east.
Drain my cup like the last coffee
you pour yourself, even though it's 11 pm
and you really should go to bed soon
because you never sleep enough.
Color between my lines like you tried
to show your little sister, when she stole
your colored pencils and scribbled
all through your sketchbook.
Give me the kind of attention you give
sunset on the beach,
because someting about it makes time stop
and brings you peace.
Love me,
even though the only time you ever thought
love just might be more than a façade or a con
left you detached and empty.
Love me,
because I promise
I'm already trying
to love you.
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 4:26 PM UTC
If I gave you my hope
Would you burn it
Not dark at the edges
But clean through
Until there is nothing
But the ashes of
What once was
Purified in fire
Damaging, destroying
What you sought to
Glorify now gone
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 9:03 AM UTC
i suppose i am composed
of some of my mother
and parts of my father
no matter how i try to shed them both
i am warped by premature exposure
to prostitution and ***********
my veins are ***** from
the needles i don't use
and my head is clear from
the pills i don't take
painted skin covers
the pale emptiness
my skin as a canvas
that all too accurately reflects
the blank white nothing inside of me
cruel hope after hope that's been
left to disappoint
disapproval of myself end to end
fiber to fiber is deemed inadequate
so focus outward forget about this body
how to impact the world
how to change the world
how to fix the world
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 9:08 PM UTC
Thanks for the less-than beautiful breaks.
Thanks for the leaving leaving leaving.
Thanks for empty promise on top of empty promise.
Thanks for the words, every name I believe is true.
Thanks for the continued surprises, keeping the torment fresh, new.
Thanks for the wicked hope you've given me.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 1:39 AM UTC
I don't know what you think of the word "wicked";
but where I come from it's a funny thing. It doesn't mean evil or sad.
We say "That's wicked cool." It's meaning rings the same as, "That's the ticket!"
Wicked means more; and more hope can't be all that bad.
I guess what I'm saying is, you're "Wicked" nice.
Despite your talent, your wall is full of other people's "Hope".
Vanity is certainly not your choicest vice.
Empathy, perhaps, would better fit the scope.
Your story's still being written down; I'm not sure where that path will stray.
I don't know if it will end in fire or ice- or if either would suffice-
but were Robert Frost here, (and from my home town) he'd say
"I've heard the name. That chick's wicked dope."
Thanks for being Wicked Cool, Wicked Hope
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 6:17 PM UTC
I wear baggy clothes so that I can feel skinnier.
I reread all of the notes I've saved almost every night.
I write really loopy because it's hard for me to let go.
I close my eyes and imagine things, constantly.
I paint with black because colors are too interesting.
I rub my face when I'm stressed, or I claw at my skin.
I wear my hair over my face so I can't see people staring.
I hate liquid eyeliner, insincerity, and pomegranates.
I love being in the rain because it stings, cleans, drenches.
I want to either die young or marry young, always have.
I try to walk everywhere I go so I can lose more weight.
I wish I remembered how to be happy.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 4:26 PM UTC
Do you really want
your body to be covered in scars
for the rest of your life?
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 5:35 AM UTC
Once He (a) was my Two A.M.,
And I tried to make him (b) my Three.
But to be honest, from Ten to Six A.M.,
It's usually just lonely ol' me.
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC
**Out of place and rather uncertain
Lacking instructions, suggestions and a warning
Bouncing about like a toy ball
Uncomfortable with all my tics
I've always felt so quirkily and small**
*Lacking order and any sense of being,
Feeling out of place, unloved no ones ever hearing,
Broken and bruised from head to toe,
My scars shining bright against the pale white snow,
Just because I couldn't learn to walk straight,*
**Crooked toothed but grinning
I always feel like I'm sinning
Every time I'm early I feel late
Burnt to a crisp is the price of the flame
I'm just a solo player stuck in this game**
*Maybe I'm the sinner and you're the saint,
Your halo is burning, getting lost in the flames,
Take my hand and join with me,
For we can end the heartache that seems to be,
Lets be awkward together,
There's no one better*
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 8:26 PM UTC
**Out of place and rather uncertain
Lacking instructions, suggestions and a warning
Bouncing about like a toy ball
Uncomfortable with all my tics
I've always felt so quirkily and small**
*Lacking order and any sense of being,
Feeling out of place, unloved no ones ever hearing,
Broken and bruised from head to toe,
My scars shining bright against the pale white snow,
Just because I couldn't learn to walk straight,*
**Crooked toothed but grinning
I always feel like I'm sinning
Every time I'm early I feel late
Burnt to a crisp is the price of the flame
I'm just a solo player stuck in this game**
*Maybe I'm the sinner and you're the saint,
Your halo is burning, getting lost in the flames,
Take my hand and join with me,
For we can end the heartache that seems to be,
Lets be awkward together,
There's no one better*
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
Lipsticks, painted red
A smile on my face,
Not seen before,
Take a big swig from a bottle,
Drink more and more
Until I end up on the floor
Finally the memories are gone
When my sanity walks out the door
I'm now on the ceiling,
Though quite possibly dreaming,
My thoughts are far from clearing
In muddled moments
I find comfort and forget
No longer chained
Or to my own head in debt
Swishing the thoughts around my mind
Like a good year of
fine white wine
Spitting out the rotten ones
Swallowing down a few,
just for fun
Intoxication at its finest,
Brazen, daring, brave and bold
Leaving the past behind us
Out in the bitter cold
Frozen behind,
No longer catching up to me
I can stumble forward
In my plastered euphoria
A smile on my face
I can pick up my pace
Audacious now, I feel
Doesn't matter how much of this is real
Reality is just in my mind
Not easily defined
By dreams, nightmares or ghosts
From the past
Reality is in this bottle,
This pipe, or this needle
Down to the very last
Drops of fantasy and candy
But ****
It tastes so sweet
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 7:30 PM UTC
I'm a dork, a freak,
pathetic, quiet,
loud, obnoxious,
loyal, concerned,
self absorbed, afraid,
disconnected, preoccupied,
and more.
My bookshelf spills
onto the floor,
into my closet,
covers my mattress.
I spend more time
RPing in forums
than I do
talking to people
I actually know.
I have this
weird accent
that doesn't belong
where I live,
it gets wicked strong
when I'm upset or tired.
My entire wardrobe is
a walking reference
to novels,
sci-fi,
or something else.
I wear hats... a lot.
I bring books,
handhelds,
and notebooks
to events
where
I'm supposed to
socialize.
I
dance
randomly
and
people
stare.
I snort
when I laugh,
really loudly.
I d a y d r e a m.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 3:15 PM UTC
She has found a friend
Maybe someone who cares
Don't you let her drown in loneliness
Don't you DARE.....
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC