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Dec 2019 · 283
svdgrl Dec 2019
Succulents and decor,
Meticulous cleaning, more friends.
Swiping crazy on tinder,
Online shopping, expensive skincare
Ruminating on what was once there sitting,
In suspended reality.
Where were the parents? That child is
dead now.
Locked in a haze, trying to forget
What a let down we’ve become.
That’s just how it can be.
****, that really blows.
What you thought was flush,
could just be bust.
Watching Disney + shows,
Toes the color of a mood.
Brooding about the future,
And saving the cash.
Cooking up and meal prep,
A meditation streak
you’re scared to break.
Excessive napping and
rubbing ten out on Sunday.
Dealing with small men,
eating like a champion,
taking a bath with an enemy
then do it again.
Avoiding all your frequents,
Picking up your phone calls,
singing Doja lyrics in a commute.
Drinking away the anxiety,
Staring at the tv,
Covered in twenty Sherpa-
You’re gone and I want to stay high
But I’m settled in an empty room
with self care books
I hope this time it’s a womb and
not a coffin.
Nov 2019 · 173
svdgrl Nov 2019
Find a good metaphor to die on,
in a poem at 3:24 am.
Alone in my own bed watching some cheesy
Hulu special with attractive people
who got their start in Disney.
I think about another failed relationship.
My eyes feel dry, so I wet them again.
This is real. This is healthy.
This is hurt.

Why’d he do that?
Self doubt creeps in like the black of night
slipping into my room while I count the hours
like I used to count his freckles,
or was that the one before?
I tried to feel longing.
I don’t want to be in his musk.

I don’t want to wake up the same.
Maybe I’ll wake up and he’d have never
done what he did.

But this was necessary,
at least valid.
The push I needed-
blessing in disguise of sudden
Loneliness during the holidays
while everyone I know
is with someone else
Happy or not.
It’s not a constant, right?
I’m okay. I’m cleaning.
I’m painting. I’m flirting.
I’m hurting.
I’m certain this is temporary.
And I’m observing the resistance.

My ******* are hardened.
I’m not aroused- it’s just ******* cold.
And my human space heater
is out of service.
Need a new one.
Or a blanket.
A heated blanket. I’ll just get
A blanket.
They’re less disappointing.
Nov 2019 · 155
svdgrl Nov 2019
Small hands are squeezing organs,
from my stomach to my esophagus.
It all feels horrible,
like a spell was done and worn off again.
Manipulative magic, I’ve been here before.
But never with you.
I never thought I’d find you here.
Choking on the breadcrumbs of your alibi.
You were never good at hiding tracks.
The trails always led to the same place,
And now I’m doubting everything
from the color of your leaves,
to the sound of the wind.
Working off a sweat,
this relationship gave me baby weight.
For you it was whatever, so I roll them, you say “Baby, wait.”
Candy glass houses for your candy ***.
Sugarcoat everything you’ve omitted.
I disbelieve everything you’ve admitted.
Fire poker mumbles over the phone.
You’ve been lying with the witch
(‘s)is tongue still off limits?
I won’t step into the fire for you.
I’ll be out of the woods, soon.
Pebbles of wisdom instead of bird food.
Oct 2019 · 129
Feed the Baby
svdgrl Oct 2019
So many little ***** hands reaching out
for an empty watering can.
The pipe always seems to be closer
than it looks.
I shut my eyes tight sometimes and
let my fingers find a rhythm
or lose myself to the whirr.
I forget to meditate, or write things down,
I browse IG, fall into pattern of searching
for familiar names.
I find deals online and shop away the panic
Settling in, it’s replaced with commercial
anticipation- instant gratification-

Jesus ******* Christ I can’t even type
with my headphones on,
this car is always the obnoxious one
I never learn.
It’s the closest to the stairwell but I guess
I always hope that people would consider
That roosters haven’t even crowed yet
And maybe whisper?
Oct 2019 · 125
svdgrl Oct 2019
I’m not sure what brought me to look up
but i saw a lady red tail, perched atop the elm by the bus stop,
With her head tucked under her wing, probably as cold as I was.
I’ve only ever seen them with entrails in their mouth,
at conservations and public gardens, among masses of tourists,
and maybe their shadows in the top floor of the castle
where i attended boring freshman classes.
Once in the car driving up to the capital with my cousin-
they’re said to be common though.
Lady was different- she was small and seemed docile
not unlike the fluffy little birds that made homes
in the bricks at the station,
making themselves bigger for warmth.
I stopped in my tracks and stared, then looked around for someone to share her with-
but everyone looked awfully busy.
May 2019 · 1.5k
come mute
svdgrl May 2019
Just a minute left before I should pinball out of my building doors
and speed over past the new high riser,
gust of wind pushing against my little body,
tiny amongst these buildings going up.
My eyes switch between the time and the streets,
My feet fall soft and I’m safe.
The trains not here yet and then it is,
and then I sit and I rip my book out of
my lunch bag, ticket tucked under my bookmark
In case the conductor don’t see me
I’ve been reading about the golden state killer.
Rye’s a five minute warning and then
I’m speeding out of another door down
the stairs past the elderly,
across one of the many ****** Port Chester
streets difficult to cross but I’m walking
my legs dart fast past the head shop and the bread shop
and my nose is filled with sweet and sour.
I walk faster- avoiding the CEO
he rides the same train and I don’t want to talk.
So I march forward and don’t look back.
I get closer and mentally flip off the line of five short men
catcalling me in Spanish, all the while peeking in to the brisa marina window
to see if there’s anything my herbivorous mouth could swallow,
but i don’t break my stride.
They’re practically a butcher anyway.
I climb the stairs to the entrance, stepping beyond the dead baby bird carcass
I was hoping some other animal would consume yesterday
and the avocado shell that would have been good to bury it with.
I try to shake the thought of impending doom as I swipe myself in
Still going as fast as i can so that I don’t have to hold the door open for the CEO
Call me petty, but I do enough of his bidding on a day to day
And I ascend to age 5 years for 10 hours.
And then I run home just to do it all over again the next morning.
Feb 2019 · 757
Mirror Kisses
svdgrl Feb 2019
Slick with self preservation,
I moisturize away the blemishes.
Night masks alone in the apartment.
Mane too long they dampen
Dark lines on dark skin, strands
stick to me blacker than kajal.
I’ll shower in the morning.
Grabbing at the extra, cupping
Slapping and ******* it in.
I’m so much when i think
I’m not enough.
Wrapping it in lace,
hug where it goes in
Abnormal hourglass,
I turn around to examine
The lightning storm around my
thunder thighs too thick to gap,
Just a small wineglass
Under a coarse tangle.
“Need to workout again.”
Dimples press and flatten,
Tattoos jiggle and beckon.
The hairs on my legs are fine
stand straight in the cold
My feet are sort of dry,
I dip them in cream
And slip on soft socks I could
Never wear in sleep,
I think of a silly dream
where I’m blonde and very thin
Like the best friend
Of every man I’ve ever been with
The one they crush(ed)
on only just a little-
but that was a long time ago.
Such a funny pattern,
Such a common trend.
I wonder if I’m meant to
bring myself to that.
But to change so quickly-
I’d rather be fat,
dark and dead.
Jan 2019 · 124
I should be asleep
svdgrl Jan 2019
My mind won’t shut up.
Count the breaths and listens to sleepcasts
like it should.
Am I bored with being happy?
I clung to creativity as the lifeline in my desperate years
and now it sits in the corner of my room
as one of the many things that spark joy
but isn’t instantly gratifying.
Dissociating is the only push I feel to write,
So I guess I haven’t been quite out of sorts
for a bit.
I have to be up in 5 hours.
I should sleep.
I feel my heart unbonding from the things that keep me.
I don’t see the damage quite yet.
I broke the empty Pyrex bowl that held my lunch earlier.
Right before I got on the train.
Right inside my cloth lunch bag.
I was embarrassed. And i smelt of chilli.
So i tossed the whole thing in the trash-
im heading for the hills.
I’m running.
I can’t be that invested in anything and i know it.
Wide awake and it’s almost midnight.
I don’t want to be the reason I slid right
Back down that shity spiral.
In the shape of sadness.
In the shape of discontentment.
Why is disco in that word?
Go to sleep now.
Jan 2019 · 282
svdgrl Jan 2019
Soft sounds of trucks in the distance, driving over bridges,
Wind hitting windows.
The cold sits with me and rubs my arms,
kisses my fingers
reminds me my ******* are mini heaters.
The glow of my face in the black mirror.
Light shapes dance on my ceiling,
I’m tapping away, numb from feeling.
My hands have long lost sensation,
I just hear the patter of my thumbs.
I don’t know why I don’t want to say anything.
I don’t know why I’m counting my breath.
I’m content with this temperament.
I’ve been way up above lately.
I forgot what it’s like to be present and satiated with nothing.
Jan 2019 · 110
Fits like a
svdgrl Jan 2019
They’re supposed to keep you warm, while you hold things when it’s brick out.
But mine never fit right.
Sliding about but if they’re tight they’re too thin,
If they’re thick I can’t type with them.
When something fits like one, it’s supposed to be perfect. Sleek- form fitting,
Perfect match.
That hasn’t quite happened yet for me.

I should just hide my hands in my pockets.
I need to feel things, anyway.
I always lose them, anyway.
I sure know how to choose them,
Heat-tech and fingerless, mittens
and insulated.
What’s a middle ground?
Dirt is healthy, anyway.
I rather just see the ghosts, anyway.
Jan 2019 · 360
Late Night Write
svdgrl Jan 2019
I stare at a glowing window while I hear
the street sweepers chiming down the street
for the week night I've lost count of.
Body warmth and sleep cuddles aren't around,
to help me want to close my eyes tonight.
It's 3 AM on Monday and my lover's in his own
waking in a few hours to the glow
and I still don't want to wink.
Fixated on past experiences.
This is just never the time to be
appreciating everything, is it?
Too late to get anything good down,
Too early write anything off.
Jan 2019 · 209
Mauve Prose
svdgrl Jan 2019
RGB colors mind scramble on your ceiling,
like in our closest amusement park.
Playing underneath it, unicorns and feelings,
making flesh shapes in the dark of your room.
Bioluminescent in its black sea,
I can't swim good but I ride the waves you send me.
You can't read but you're rather well read to me.
Promises wont break, but please bend me
over and over again.
When did I become this sober again?
You get me wanting
to remodel the homes that belong to lonely songs
only so that they can fit a king bed,
extra cool on my side because you're a furnace
that I huddle into and cherish earnestly.
You let me ramble run-ons and babble
or be still and mute, be it
swimming in space or silently disputing
but I can never stay quiet too long.
I can't ever hide whats wrong to you.
Or what's right, so I write to remind you
how beloved this is, unparalleled to whats behind
and how eager I am for what's ahead.
Nov 2018 · 1.1k
*banish spell*
svdgrl Nov 2018
this is to my old mister:
i saw that you deleted pictures.
it spread relief through my veins.
it hurts you, too, still, to see my face.
are you angry? or is she jealous?
am i still pretty? how're the fellas?
do you miss me? you still a coward?
pushing petals off cut flowers.
candy with nuts- your special garlic.
i eat them whole and push you farther
than you can move or where you've settled.
for the worst, you've won some medals.
for the best, you've let me better,
but why did you send me that short letter?
there's no time bomb in my belly,
for sometime I was unsullied
of thoughts of you, thoughts of she,
thoughts of them, thoughts of we,
don't know why, i'm still vindictive
since from my heart, you've been evicted.
i wont respond, you get none,
no more of you, from here on.
Oct 2018 · 262
svdgrl Oct 2018
the whirr of the fan, a flash of green in my belly button,
comic books on the nightstand, they might stand for real,
the way you steal a glimpse while we're all laughing at nothing,
the pause when we sit in your car after hanging with our friends,
circles the rain makes in puddles, rapid yet placid,
the subtle way you brush my hair away when it tickles you,
while i'm tucked under arm; a fond pillow,
when i curl up alone knotted in my sheets,
slipping my cold feet in the crooks of my legs to warm,
the only song that's been my alarm since you,
these are the things that make me miss you.
svdgrl Aug 2018
I couldn't tell you at the time.
You were trying hard to drive.
The rain made our vision mauve,
but somehow you got me home, safe.
You are always, the sweetest thing.
Even when its bright and early,
and you're at your crankiest, you try
to remind me how much I'm
the one you hate the least.
But eventually, you might.

I couldn't tell you at the time,
we were listening to Frank.
The rain invaded every line,
but I sang to it the same.
And when it became severe,
you held my fingers and you steered.
We looked closer than eyelids,
Center console, kept us divided,
You told me it'd be alright.
while we listened to "Nights."
svdgrl Aug 2018
Jasmine smells of Lavender to me,
except the plant of color reminds me of a time that was lonelier.
I've held a bit of the scent,
but was compelled to be rid of the dried herb that lingers,
and tickles my legs in my own bed as a reminder
to dust myself off and try again.
I sniff the freshly fallen blossoms I've laid atop
my comforters, fondly.
I try to erase the fear of the spirals,
smelling flowers and escaping sleep
and remember that I've become the company I keep.
So that when I anoint my temples with white petals
I forget the loneliness lavender reminds me of.
Aug 2018 · 300
Do you still make music?
svdgrl Aug 2018
No updates, we live private lives.
You left this town and all that I gave you in a pile.
Haven't heard your voice in some time.
Probably muffled with your brandname smile.
Photographs pick perfect poses.
You seem to have everything you've meant to own.
You got a new home with a new girl,
and even a dog like you've always wanted.
But do you even touch your keys?
Ever exclusive, babe, do you still make music?
Why am I still writing poems about him?
svdgrl Jul 2018
You always scoop me up with a smile and a wink.
I can't help the smirk that comes in sync,
You open your broken door to let me in
You're straight out of work and you still hold the scent
of the day on you, and we're spent but still I stay on you.
And I don't need to know, but I'll ask "How was it?"
while you're driving through our cities,
for you, I wasn't just a way, I knew.
I stare at the green patches and the spills of blue,
we listen to the radio and I listen to you,
lips glisten as grass and morning dew,
tongues run along them fast, and we have a clue,
and we glance way up ahead, as the cars come to a slow
you lean over and press them to me, under the red glow
You've a hunger and my lips abundant-
a feast, for plunder, and it's no wonder
under the disguise of your caddy sedan,
you're the man whom I call daddy,
a ***** man with a solid plan
and we'll drive by some thirty friends,
and park down and around the bend,
and scramble in through your basement door
even though it's no secret anymore
We'll say hello to your mother,
pretty sure she knows I'm your lover-
and though I hide the shame
cause I don't wanna be lame
My name in your parted mouth
And you in mine, hard down south,
makes for an even better night
than kissing at all of the red lights.
svdgrl Jun 2018
I want to say you've left me all broken into jagged pieces,
that luckily everyone seems to want to pick up,
but they're sharp, dude.
I'm nervous.
I've been cut so far,
before the glass was broken.
I can only wonder-
I can be soft-spoken.
I'll try for  moments,
in which I'm grateful I'm not alone.
But I flip through your new pictures,
with the girl you said not to worry about,
I scurry about
memes in hand, I don't need a man,
I've buried the doubt.
I'm edgy.
I try my best to keep myself from writing my own elegy
But I know I want you to read this,
it isn't the best poetry.
It's just what I wish I could impart to you,
after keying your car and using your tooth brush
to clean my dogs *******.

*******, you abusive piece of crap.
I've contemplated messaging your new lady,
Out of the fear that just maybe
you'd grab her by the neck too,
and assume she liked being treated like ****.
svdgrl Jun 2018
I dim the lights,
I sit in my bed, listening to the ac drone,
on and on and on.

I blink my tears into the corners of my mouth,
and then wipe em away, because its weird, right?
to eat your tears?

I think of you.
God, had I been made into a body that sees
a good thing.
God, if I had been made into a body, that is drawn to
something better
than what I've allowed.
I say things out loud.
Things I coat in sweetness,
because I love you, too, dude.
Just not in the same way, you do me.
And god, aren't we all looking for that one,
that does us?
And if I did you,
the way I am now.
You'd find the reasons why I shy,
why I know
unsatifactory, I promise.
You say you wont,
But god, thats no way to love.
You are my reason to flee
from the solitude that quite scares me
from the rubbers I use to numb me
to keep me good in bed,
but not quite good enough to get in their head
I avoid the competitive types
I like being wanted but I don't need to know
about the hurt
about who came first
I comprise the story, in my head
every day, and I know
that I'll never be enough
not cause' I didn't try.
But because I've never really wanted to.
Because I've never wanted to be enough
svdgrl May 2018
My immune system can't keep up with my emotions,
I've broke and shed tears, learning to be kosher.
I've been sick for a month but sick of you longer.
If my resilience is strong, my resolve can be stronger.
I won't talk to you, what's there to say anyway?
What's up? You hear Deafheaven's new album?
No? Yeah, it's not out yet.
I know you're not even giving this a second thought.
But when everyone's around- I still wonder why you're not.
Even though it's brief and in passing
and maybe I'm relieved; disenchanted.
I don't have to address the silence in a drunken stupor
amongst all of these new faces, I'm super.
I can talk to whoever and not feel like a loser
swiping on tinder, wearing away my finger
prints, a repetitive motion syndrome since
that night I decided to get to stepping for my dignity.
I refused to be an option that's just in your vicinity.
I've bought one too many beers that I didn't drink myself.
I've sat shiva one too many times on your bottom shelf.
So now I just wonder if we could ever be cordial,
I've been rubbing panacea on the sofa-bed sores,
I've acquired these last few months with you.
what're you up to?
Hope you're alright
I bid you good night.
May 2018 · 390
Ellios Pizza
svdgrl May 2018
Chewing the hard burnt bits of cheese off of frozen pizza
I am soft, I am light, I am not giving a single **** about the extra calories I'm consuming at 3 AM.
But from the hospital my mother works at,
must have been reheated a few times now.
I don't ******* care. It's food.

And here I am. Alone in my bed.
Listening to Russian Circles and hoping
it'll help me write something actually worth sharing for once.
Eh, I'd rather not take myself so.

I like a few guys.
I like a girl very much.
I'm starting a new job.
I'm scared of what's to come.
I'm scared of disappointing everyone.
I'm an ellios pizza stowed away as leftovers, a midnight snack.
Hoping to be worthy of praise.
Sprinkled in trader joes seasoning. I'm just so special.
I'm tasty but I'm so much more than I seem.
Cook me in the oven, if you want me crispy.
I cure hangovers.
Just with my fingertips, I promise.
Sleep with me, and see.
You'll see that I'm honest.

You'll be there in the morning.
I might decide to take a hike.
Don't ask me to stay. You don't ever mean that.
I'm fine admiring myself in my frontal camera,
on a lyft ride back home with dancehall music in the background.
I'm worth so much of my own praise that I forget to text you back.
May 2018 · 289
Red Paisley Patterns
svdgrl May 2018
It was softness spun around in candy floss,
but sickly sweet and now they're craving from the loss.
Their fingers are sticky; their lips pulled apart.
Oh, please Candy, don't let them in your heart.
Apr 2018 · 224
svdgrl Apr 2018
Was it your final flight?
Entrapped in leather armor
you pierced me hot and dizzy
excruciating and unforgiving.
****** for haram invasion,
when we plowed through
your nesting grounds.

Splattered amongst the visor
your sisters died in vain
but you, you left a mark
had me faint on the bike
falling backwards, alarmed
almost victim to your kamikaze.
Only soothed with more poison.

Swollen sordid pretense,
will it die away?
Though not the predominate,
I feared amputation
from your martyrdom.
But your irreverent venom
only plagued me for a weekend.
Got stung by a yellow jacket whilst riding on the back of a motorcycle. It got stuck in my glove and all i could do for the pain was drink.
Apr 2018 · 271
svdgrl Apr 2018
Now that I'm settled into another night
of this unsavory gloom, impending doom,
well-marinated in the bitter songs my ex wrote about me
I can start thinking of all the little ghosts of men
I've washed off of myself in the powder room,
some of which still linger in my sheets and in messages,
in empty whiskey bottles and cups of sour wine,
and some of which I keep around to remind myself
how lonely I've managed to remain.
My ex-lover's voice is straining now,
but in spite of the comfortable familiar sound of his wailing,
I only miss the parts about him I've made up with silver lining.
And I'm deadly close to making up solid bodies to those little ghosts, too.
Most of whom should stay swirling deep in the toilet,
or covered in latex in the dustbin.
But I take a pill every day and ignore the many messages.
I hug a soft loneliness and hold seances on the weekends,
bury my dead feelings in a pillow as I scream their several names,
swallow them whole but dribble and fill lines at night
only to cleanse myself of their remnants in the morning.
Apr 2018 · 369
"read" (a song)
svdgrl Apr 2018
I hope you know that I think of you so often,
that I worry and hope to feel you in my pocket.
Every now and then, I'll think that I have lost it.
I wear my attachment enclosed in a locket.
Because I never want to ask too much. (that's too much.)
But lately I could use your touch. (let's touch.)
I wish you could just read this, but we're all just so busy.
I know it's not deliberate but "read" leaves me in a tizzy.
I'm blue when you're not with me but I will not make this heavy.
I'm scared you'll take advantage, can't bear to be so naggy.
Deflect and reflect a lack of true affection.
Poly isn't for when our hearts need protection.
I am not just an honorable mention; another soft option.
Nor do I expect you to get up and just drop ****.
Just wish to be valued and treated as such,
But I never want to ask too much, is this (too much?)
Too bad, lately I've been too much (that's too much.)
I'll sit here debating if I've enough (that's enough.)
While I'm really just waiting for your touch (let's touch.)
Mar 2018 · 295
Familiar Pillow Talk
svdgrl Mar 2018
The things you say linger in my head a bit longer than they should.
I remind myself that those echoes should be taken with a grain,
and cynicism will keep my resolve alive.
I tell you I don't believe you when you say you've missed me,
while I'm stifling the excitement inside.
You're pleading when you ask if I am leaving you
and I put your mind to ease, even though all you can do is sleep.
You say you want me to stay but your offerings are modest-
lazy yet earnest, you kiss my forehead and doze off again.
You approach everything in life about the same-
except those of which don't seem to work the way you want.
Should I disappear for a while?
I worry I might be replaced.
I'm not quite good at all those games-
but I'll watch you play, you'll tell me the stories so maybe I'll stay.
I'll curl up on your sofabed and be your cat for the day.
And when I do leave, I'll wonder if you'll hear me pleading too,
You might think if there isn't distance I couldn't miss you.
That's not true.
That's not true.
At least I think- but take it with a grain and see me again.
Feb 2018 · 269
forgotten favorite
svdgrl Feb 2018
i caught myself
before i caught a bad case of you
staining my sheets and making me believe
you meant when you said
i was your favorite person right now.
such a loud and pointless thought,
drenched in impermanence
lacking the resonance
that a favorite should hold
so i place you on mute,
to dull the sting of not being responded to.
i look towards the weekend,
where i'll probably miss the way you look at me,
but not the way my wallet drains a little
and the way we stumble drunkenly up my stairs
you- perfectly complacent,
i- nervous as hell that the nosy neighbors
might loosen lips to my crazy family.
i'll probably miss the way you feel within,
but not the way you're comatose in sin.
apathy is so last year,
but i won't expect you to remember
that i was your favorite right now.
but you were my favorite never.
stupid things boys say
Feb 2018 · 971
svdgrl Feb 2018
Not that I miss you,
but I liked sleeping alone
until I met you.
Jan 2018 · 348
Sleeping in Sick
svdgrl Jan 2018
Waiting for the painkillers to kick in
I remember writhing in my sheets like it were the ocean
in my head pulling me every which way,
while I reached for pillows and bottled water
and threw myself on to my dusty carpeting.
The heat kept me **** and sticky with vick's,
until they stopped cranking it and
I pulled on a shirt and took a **** 6 times last night.
I did not want to turn on the lights,
and decided the spiders crawling on the walls
were probably too repulsed with my runny nose
to bother climbing my legs anyway.
I needed the dark- my eyes sat in my head
like two full trash cans, that shut and had enough
from the dreams I procured in sickness and nyquil.
svdgrl Dec 2017
I must have made a pact
with my eyes during the little rest I get
that forever tired is the new black
and I must wing it
every single night I stay up
until I'm sick of the sweetness
from the bulleit
seeping into my skin
I think of them and what's next
and never send that text.
I close my eyes and let it be
and hope tomorrow will let me sleep.
Dec 2017 · 257
333 on xmas eve x2
svdgrl Dec 2017
started to look to satan
after waiting for a lantern
he seems to know the path
to colt 45's and perique tobacco
ripped stockings and poison apple.
slipped wine in my bourbon
to mimic classy, safe and happy.
listened to nothing all night
through my laptop speaker.
palermo droning while I felt her
soft and slick, melting and spilling
film me, but fill her first, lucy
Dec 2017 · 1.1k
Newsfeed Negligee
svdgrl Dec 2017
Labotomize these thumbs,
they scroll more than they strum.
I don't mean to be dumb,
but I can't respond back so I hum,
and you won't hear me.
No, you can't see the words that I write.
I'm sure you'd only
be tickled,
If you knew that I think of you all night.
Because I can't sleep, love.
And I can only touch me right,
Yeah, that's right.
Just me, love.
Hope I can keep up with this fight.
And I know you don't really care,
and you haven't got some spare
feelings left to share
and if there are, they're barely there.
So drop the pity,
I'm mad you got to hear me whine.
How unsexy.
I'm supposed to just be doing fine.
I'll compartmentalize,
put it in a box and tie it with twine.
while you're liking every post of mine.
I'll compartmentalize.
While I reread your every line.
Sep 2017 · 370
Alcoholic Complacency
svdgrl Sep 2017
I listen to the whirr,
the white noise of the air conditioner,
the occasional thumps from upstairs,
the shifting of their chairs,
my scratching pen, mark after mark
and the mood music soft and dark
spilling out of the hidden speakers.
I'm staring at my slipped off sneakers
sitting stuck in the silence of a block,
I think of what could get me to talk.
Surrendering to what I don't like to share,
Details I would rather spare,
watching cartoons and salty bets,
bourbon and drunken cigarettes,
mostly the usual vices,
letting people to their devices.
Ever really been somewhere,
but never gone inside?
There I go, breaking the rhyme.
They kept knocking,
so I let them sit in the lobby,
I wonder if they'll leave,
if I tell them about my hobbies.
I keep my mouth shut and my doors locked,
and sip slow at my bulleit on the rocks,
I let the daze set in, and the movement of pen
do the talking,
The lights too dim,
the volumes too high,
I don't hear them knocking.
I stare at my empty glass,
at the bottom a warm stone,
I don't think I'll ever feel this alone.
I keep holding on to my only strength.
Keeping everyone new at arms length.
with only my liver left to thank.
svdgrl Sep 2017
I want to cry but to be perfectly honest,
I don’t feel like crying. I mean maybe,
I feel like I should be crying,
perhaps the girl, that wasn’t on anything
would probably be bawling her face out into her sheets,
or at least be asleep,
But here I am awake at 5 in the morning,
obviously tired.
Eyes dry and wide open,
Obviously spent
Numb-nosed and hell bent on writing something to read today
I’m typing away at this screen as if my conscience is the only thing
that could hear me if I scream out loud right now.
Enough of that,
filler angst.

I’ve been a juicy story for ya, huh?
Tellin your boys
I ended your dry spell, did I?
That’s quite lovely.
I suppose you ended mine, but I guess I find that hard to define
with a saying as simple as that, “She ended my dry spell”
In my heart, I know how to end you, but don’t be concerned.
I won’t try.
They say I’m too nice.
And when I hear that, I nod twice with my jaw tight
When I hear that, I don’t show them what I write.

I guess I don’t really feel much anger towards you anyway.
No matter what ill will I try to muster up, it’s lackluster and faded.
I mean, I guess it’s mostly me that’s jaded, so
It’s not your fault.
You’re the bystander.
And nothing is really telling you to save me.
Certainly, not I.
Hell, I’d be ****** if you tried.
I mean how much saving do I really need,
if the knots in my chest and around my ankles are this loose?
And I’m drinking this juice with free hands
it tastes sweet but not sticky

Honey, thanks for the truth,
you are a straight shooter-
and I might just be digging that part of you.
That and that we can go at it hard and forever.
That doesn’t hurt, I think.
For that, I can deal with listening to your jabber,
your kissing and telling, your “**** I couldn’t have her.”
Just pass the bourbon please, even though it's only scotch,
there’s still an urgency, to not be sober while you talk.

I don’t know.

This is what I wanted, right?
No strings attached too tight?

I like how you feel against my cheek.
Almost like you mean something.
You’re warm and I’m buzzed,
hanging off the edge of lust
It’s just oxytocin playing the cruel trick.
I remind myself you’re just that.
Oxytocin and some good ****.
But I like how you feel against my cheek.
Just ***** that you bore me when you speak.
Aug 2017 · 307
You were that
svdgrl Aug 2017
I'm not worried about missing you.
There are others worth kissing, too;
people who want me more than you ever did
or know how to show me I'm not a kid.
They'll stay in spaces that you once laid,
I'll save their faces so yours can fade.
I'll take it easy, since you're gone.
Left before it could be dawn.
I know you've got another one.
She's not me, but I know it's done.
She can't love you, like I had.
I hope you love her just as bad.
Just as bad.
I'm just so sad.
But can't be mad at that.
Jun 2017 · 430
Why couldn't we
svdgrl Jun 2017
We spent Friday nights together,
and lately they haven't been amazing, no,
but god, do I miss your breathing next to me,
your soft skin, the sun spots on your face,
illuminated by the lights outside your place.
The silhouette of your sleep.
It always got me to close my eyes.
I miss it bad on nights like these when I can't do just that.
Our nights had become later, jaded by quarrels of the day,
I wanted so badly to be kissed by you in ourdarkness
held close and reminded of my worth
but we were both too tired too oblige
too angry to see that what we needed more than anything was each other
not the parties, **** and drinks,
not the glow of our cellphones or the flash of our new clothes.
I cry more often lately,
than I have in long long time.
Back to my old ways, I suppose.
Mourning the loss of what was good.
I miss what we could have been always
but only were for a few nights at a time.
I forget the sting to lament what felt right.
I turn my wet pillows over and keep trying to sleep.
I don't think you'll ever know how much I weep.
Why couldn't we?
Apr 2017 · 780
Speech Police
svdgrl Apr 2017
I know when I've reached my speaking cap,
because you pull faces, sometimes shush me,
complain that I over-explain.
I tell you about how little I speak to everyone else,
in hopes that you'd cherish the words I share
with you alone, but it's futile.
So I silence myself in efforts to quell your disdain,
and refrain from speaking again.
"That's too dramatic," you say.
"It's one extreme to another, learn balance," you say.
My speech is policed, but you "only teach."
Brevity is the soul, you say.
Training me to avoid embarrassment,
obtain eloquence,
I should be thankful
that you, who know not to express your feelings
without another's pre-existence,
are patient enough with my chatter
to suggest that I truncate and omit better.
Reduce the noise and volume on this amplifier.
If I were a ****, you'd fine tune me
until you heard nothing at all.
Apr 2017 · 883
you came in
svdgrl Apr 2017
i was on the seat
with cool air kissing my skin
when I let you out
Mar 2017 · 811
svdgrl Mar 2017
Sometimes my man buys plants.
He follows the instructions on the tab,
And sets it somewhere sunny
in his attic apartment.
For a week, he is diligent;
sees how hardy his new friend is.
and admires its beauty.
Then he watches it die.
Try as he might, after a short while,
he doesn't always remember
to water it on time,
to give it some love,
and so then it shrivels up.
Upon seeing it, my man is mortified.
But for some strange reason,
he never tosses it out.
He keeps it sitting on top of where ever.
For many more weeks.
I don't remind him,
how sad it is to see it.
Out of fear he'd get a new one,
and love it dead all over again.
The other day, my man
gave me a kiss
and called me a beautiful flower.
I am grateful
these legs aren't roots.
svdgrl Mar 2017
i'm terrified that if i write these thoughts down,
i'll feel emptier than i do right now.
but here i am, tapping away,
wondering if i should ditch work today.
went to the chiropractor for no good reason-
told him to 86 the neck adjustment.
last i did it, my head felt light. but i read somewhere that it might lead to stroke.
avoiding death, now that's a joke.
if i could just snap my spine, it could be alright.
but a gradual fade isn't much of a change
from right now.
so I buckle down,
i don't need any pity
and hospital wards give me the heebie jeebies.
i don't live a sad life, i shouldn't feel ******.
but the hormones that rage and gave me these *******,
could be why
it could be tonight.
too tired to live,
too wired to die.
Jan 2017 · 656
Christmas Carcass
svdgrl Jan 2017
Husks of chopped evergreen
discarded by the sidewalk
tied to trash,
weeping pine needles
only hope to be compost.
Deflated decoration litter the lawns,
red and green strewn about
lights flickered and burnt out.
Expired eggnog, chicken bones,
crumpled wrapping paper,
empty boxes, metal reindeer,
tinsel and broken candy canes.
Dead christ is still in the holiday,
while we spoke about the night before
we forget we can see him
the morning after.
Jan 2017 · 342
The American Listener
svdgrl Jan 2017
Those hipster blogs never held your attention,
always more interested in what your idols had to say.
It was still nice when they received some recognition.
Every musician who played the lady well, deserved some shine.
But you are just a casual, and no way could you pick up an instrument.
You say you don't know her too well.
Did you ever scour the web for what is considered the newest indie hit just to learn her better,
were you The American Listener?
You couldn't be.
Critics rarely suited your taste.
You knew what you liked in her,
you didn't need affirmation.
Applying what little you've retained from the musicians you knew,
and the thousands of intricate melodies you've managed to scratch the surface with.
But still, you don't know her.
You don't know her but you love her don't you?
You put a note on your fourth finger without knowing who she was, didn't you?
She made you wanna ***** dance when no one was looking
And sometimes when someone was.
She made you feel like you could sleep again.
She made you feel like whatever you were doing wasn't too bad after all.
You skipped seeing her when you were feeling down,
you are emotional
And didn't need her sad voice to wallow,
you sang it to yourself and forgot
she was living inside you anyway.
Nov 2016 · 553
Pillar Man
svdgrl Nov 2016
What a task it must be
to hold a candle to me,
a stationary puddle of wax
colored grey and crimson
by twelve seasons
we've shared juxtaposed or apart.
I've found your hues on the faces of others
often impervious to my flames,
hardened with my tears.
And our marriage
demands that I believe
we will melt together
or fall into the cracks
of another holder.
It's the hardest thing to move on with someone who betrayed you.
Everyone advises you against it. It's so difficult when you genuinely believe they are right- but you're so broken you don't know how to leave.
Aug 2016 · 409
How I do it
svdgrl Aug 2016
I try to spend my time outside of myself
asking questions, learning lives,
anything that suppresses the memories.
The nagging voice reminding me.
It's not as safe as the world I live in.
But I'm aware that my mind
is expansive like Earth,
cluttered in some spots,
empty in others,
peaceful in the woods,
with battlecries in the cities.
Often misinterpreted-
full of the ocean and different versions
of everyone I know.
When the demons crawl up the ropes
I let them live in doodles
like ancient scrolls.
I send their resilience
to my dr. scholl's.
I try to think of the zen garden
behind where I work,
and that each concern
each worry
each blessing
are pebbles amongst captive nature.
And I am a bonsai thriving in it.
It just feels better to smile about that.
Jun 2016 · 654
svdgrl Jun 2016
if i trust you

if i trust you

if i trust you

you could take it all away again.
too scared to show you
my heart is bored with the same old sadness
don't want to you to rip me
a new one.
don't need to feel as real
as i feel every single day
i think of what happened.
inspired by burial
Jun 2016 · 357
Heavy Righteous Fear
svdgrl Jun 2016
I'm scared to numbness,
my moral compass,
as the only weight
that keeps me from
off this cruel crust
of our planet.
**** it.
There was a time
my feet only knew to fly
in the right direction.
Jun 2016 · 388
Uninspired Lonely Words
svdgrl Jun 2016
To my left
there is my lover.
To my right
I see my sister.
In front of me
there's uncertain mist.
Trailing me,
feelings persist.
I'm encircled by
so many souls,
but still I feel all alone.
Am I selfish?
To want more?
To fill the space
I've become?
Look to the light
and I see nothing.
Search for pictures
and get only words.
Lonely words.
Apr 2016 · 1.1k
What's there to enjoy?
svdgrl Apr 2016
Stop poking around.
You're just searching for another hair.
You're just searching for another reason to be sad.
You're not searching for a reason to leave.

I hear him utter curses in the other room.
Another ****** shake.
He's sipped something rotten and now it's gone to waste.
I lick the salt off of my skin.

Go ahead, deflect again.
Try to forget what you read.
It's 4/20 after all, put smoke in your head.
Cloud those memories a bit.

Icy **** rips.

***** and cigarettes.

Bernie lost New York last night.

Someone please ****** me.
Apr 2016 · 405
No primary sources
svdgrl Apr 2016
All of whom you wish could witness
this shameful vulnerability of yours
They do not etch your name into their pages
in ritual repetition.
They do not reread the shameless writing
with emotional masochism.
They do not lay at night reliving your smile
in the light shapes dancing across their walls.
They do not wish for the end
because they hate what their story has become.
Not like you do, sad girl.
They do not search for you.
Your documents are scattered
deep inside their fading history
burnt and blocked
exactly how they prefer it.
They toast to forgetting their sorrows.
Their guilt is a crumpled letter under every bottle of wine
they get too caught up to finish.
They've long become bored visualizing those fingers
groping their breaths for apologies
by scribbling poorly written prose
with blood from underneath the nails.
You've bitten them raw, sad girl.
You've tasted the bitter grime
from relentlessly scraping ***** windows
They still do not see you.
They still do not want to see you.
They won't ever knock on your door
and ask to review you.
Lock up and step outside-
there's beauty in the blank last page of leaving.
No one owes you anything.
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