"baseline" poems
TO: romeo
you could’ve loved me but you didn’t and that kind of ******
TO: romeo
i wish we could go back to when we were still possible
TO: romeo
i’d rather be just friends with you than nothing
TO: romeo
see, we only worked when the gravity wasn’t on
TO: romeo
see, i could only love you from 5000 miles away
and we’ll always have the last city we trampled through
TO: romeo
see, i loved you, on other continents and always at the wrong time
TO: romeo
see, i’m not sure i loved you because now looking at you is like disconnect
and maybe i just wanted you because i felt so small,
without a hand to hold under
the heavy weight of history crushing in around us
TO: romeo
see, you make me feel like i’m eleven again,
listening to “you belong with me” by taylor swift and wondering
is that what love’s really like?
not realizing that the girl in the video was wondering the same thing
TO: romeo
so “if you’re wondering if i want you to;
i want you to, i want you to, i want you, dude, i always do.”
TO: romeo
i can’t listen to weezer without thinking of you
TO: romeo
i have this bad habit of tangling up the things i love with people i’m trying to,
i have this bad habit of ruining them that way
TO: romeo
i want custody of our song back
i want you out of the baseline, hiding underneath the notes
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 11:16 PM UTC
I was floating in honey.
The viscosity of the substance
Made it so that, while I still needed to work
To keep my head afloat,
I had a little extra support.
So I didn't have to do it alone.
And it was good.
But my temperature began to rise.
I became too hot too fast, and,
Because of my actions
I started to destroy the beneficial parts
That the honey needed to remain useful and healthy.
So the honey reacted:
Threw my melting self out of its jar.
I tried to jump back in
But the honey firmly ******* its lid back on,
And my charring fists
Fruitlessly pounded on the boundary
The honey had erected.
Then as my body and brain burned,
The other honey jars disappeared-
Distancing in acts of self-preservation.
I knew how I could get my temperature
Back to baseline.
I just needed a little help
So I could work to get back to my normal self.
But my actions had pushed away what I needed.
So I accepted the fate I had caused,
And allowed my body to fall to ash.
Nov 20, 2023
Nov 20, 2023 at 9:05 PM UTC
We climbed from bedrock
to Idyllwild the home
of Pines to Palms
and Suicide Rocks
but not for us
only for those
poor tired souls
for whom the world's gone
flat
refusing
the night threw
itself boldly into the fray
of winds which blew
from storm to calm
so this morning we awoke
to a placid knap
slipping on snowy piste
to turn cold snaps
hot
spiced Nepali tea
sipped from ice
nipped cups
I see promise
picks up
from backward leaps
time forward flips
breaking free range igneous
into pan
piped sizzling
congenial song
that carries on the tree line
like spring
water sprung from
creeks to go scurrying off
with wet socks
until pulled up
by old school granite skies
hanging pools out to dry
in sopping blue rinsed sun
ahead any bald rocks
or hairline fractures
are long since dialled in
as baseless fears
knowing this mobile age
can merrily slip like air
through numb fingers
while baseline hands declare
“hold me close to gather”
edelweiss echoes gone
rappelling through time
the route we've chosen's
to be tied to each other's
peaks in the way of sun
and moon
come what may
be it creases in our skin
or crevasses
we'll win the battle to slim line
any overhanging ridges
so I take care to tighten
my girth hitch to top notch
and hold firmly
to both your conviction
and reach
that setting
out to move mountains
we call home
achieves more than
staying home
and calling mountains
so bright
you have me forget
all things too trite
banal office hype
shopworn old hat
mowing lawn weekends
too dishy to be clichéd
you polish off the stereotype
slam the Dior on out of shape
and dull as ditchwater tripe
keeping a victorious secret
or two in the slip knot
too tranquil shade
taking allure to new heights
we'll never drop
down from
tonight
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
This ***** ******
They say that beauty is in the eyes of the
Beholder, so does this ***** have eyes?
the power of evil and bad,
Today we see what it can do
Many a nation have gone to war,
Because of this ugly beauty,
many family units has been tread apart
Because of its evil doings,
The seven hundred wives of
King Solomon and his three
Hundred concubines was
a great example of what
the ugly beauty can do:
Infidelity is on the rise,
so many lies: so many shortcoming,
Lucy ****** is an embarrassing subject
why men lie and killed for it?
this remarkable commodity: with
****** is like a Van Gogh painting,
It gets lot of attention: the baseline dimensions
is still a mystery: A weapon so powerful
It can break a man down to his lowest
It has a language of its own.
silly words like sup, sup, sup.
the same sound effects of a cold beer going down
the gullets: the smoother, the esophagus: pleasers
The ****** and a beer have so much in common
they both get their men all the time,
a smooth transportation, in addition, the lamentation,
****** you are surely blissful:
Men incredible dreams
who wouldn’t want to own the team?
No matter how destructive or fulfilling:
** Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent,
more perfect than all that a man can invent.”
― Roman Payne** Quote
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
autism to blame
for the white in white
male
(I blame)
***
for shared abstinence (I blame)
my former self for my
former
transference my baseline
jumper on
poverty the gnome
in your front yard on tough
interior
art
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 4:11 PM UTC
No parenthetical this time in my rhyme, I'll lie flat the baseline like, Here are my cards, bro. Take a look at them all, bro. Get started with just the light kinds of gospel like, Bro, did you know I got a **** down there? Taken aback you say, What? Bro, did you know I'm packing a tackle, though so modest in stature, bro, instead of a package I joke split/second to cope and still manage to crack a satanic smile as I call my most modest hose a gigantic, titanic ****
Word. You got nice lips, still, though, how bout you look up and get down on me, yo? Word is that I handle it with alarming aplomb considering how I present myself to the world. So what I got a culturally appropriated slab of ink tattoo yo. Just a guy trying to get along with the little he's got, and then on top of that I like to slide my **** n stuff. How about me too? Cause I can get down on you if we both repeat **** like we believe it. You got ***** bam, and plump curved fat just as all the girls growing up had, fashionable hair and even a soft face. You, girl, I can bend you over. Sure, be glad to bend you over.
Rough riding baring face to the wind on highways
I never thought I would be here deciding
Do I believe in others' abilities enough to believe that they know me as
If they would know a human?
Get close, pry in, to my life,
you'll find a lion, lonely, dragging coats of molted skin
with wire stolen from her other lives,
the desperate lioness devours the food she can.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 6:29 AM UTC
Every stranger on the street
has sunk deep into the night *at least once,
or twice*, and I'd wager
that at times their thoughts have unfurled
into black dishrags soaking up
the insignificant amounts
of vivacity-
pouring pride into the sewer,
praying desperately to recover.
Eventually, time pries a crack
into the soul, and peels back
the skin of morality until the lines
no longer meet and the mind
reels- searching for the baseline
of sanity- *save me, someone
save me*.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 5:58 PM UTC
Why I’m not “All About that Bass”
So I’m in my car cruising down i-49
When I hear a song with a kickin-baseline
*I'm all about that bass,bout that bass no treble, i'm all about that bass
I'm bringing ***** back go ahead and tell them*
STOP
Excuse me?
When did ***** leave?
How did ***** get there?
Was ***** on vacation?
Where they at tho?
Yeah my moma she told me don’t worry about your size*
But not because in a patriarchal society I am valued for my ratio
Of hips to thighs as handle bars for my man to
“keep me grounded”
But because I was beautiful anyway
I am not the number sewn into society like the waistband of my jeans
I am the number of times I look into the mirror and say “hey ****
And if society is too lazy to know that beneath these eyes but above these hips
And behind this full chest theres a heart
Lets be real
Were not going to blame Meagan trainer
She probably didn’t even write this song
but why are we idolizing these who only look to sexulize the femaile body instead of holding us to
a higher standard
and just think
you are perfect, thank you pink
we can be stronger, thank you Kelly
And no matter what we are beautiful, thank you christina
Why aren't these the women we are idolizing?
Because according to hot 107.9 its all about the *****
I am not something you can put into a box something you can stereotype
Just because i have big thighs and a ***** to match doesn't mean i want it to be pointed out
or catcalled every chance there is.
my body your body everyones body is their own
and deserves to be treated like its own perfect stronger more beautiful self.
i am strong
i am perfect
i am beautiful
my hips don't belong to you
my ***** does not belong to you
i do not belong to you
And thats why im not all about that bass
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 9:26 AM UTC
I want you to see all the stories I’ve written for you
But I’m scared the characters will chip and fall apart
Serifs sharp like broken glass
Are you still breathing
while you drown in me?
There is a curve
In soft vowels that create you
and any letter that drops below the baseline, like a sinking rock in the murky shores
My words more often than not drift like wood at sea
Part of something once
But no longer whole
And crushed constantly by blue waves of doubt
That pushes and pulls me
Into every direction
Every lighthouse I've ever seen
has never shined bright enough
to guide me home
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 5:46 PM UTC
I said it once or maybe it was thrice
My words are not nice they cut like knife
What did I say? is it a big slice?
My words are not nice they cut like knife
Can’t I be bold? without paying a price
My words are not nice they cut like knife
I thought was being nice and not mean and cold like ice
My words are not nice they cut like knife
What was the line that pierced through you?
My words are not nice they cut knife
My words change the mood and now you brood
My words are not nice they cut like knife
Why do the lyrics to my song always comes out wrong?
My words are not nice they cut like knife
My words creates an uproar in our vibrational sing-along
My words are not nice they cut like knife
Forgive me my love I know I was wrong
My words are not nice they cut like knife
I’m not trying to create a mash up out of our perfect song
My words are not nice the cut like knife
I don’t want to be afraid to say what’s on my mind
My words are not nice they cut like knife
Don’t let these words make our relationship decline
My words are not nice the cut like knife
We have waited an eternity and now is our time
My words are not nice they cut like knife
I’m sorry Babes I was completely out of line
My words are not nice they cut like knife
I swear I’ll try, I’ll do better next time
My words are not nice they cut like knife
Words aren’t my strongest suit they get intertwined and messes with the baseline
My words are not nice they cut like knife
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 3:44 PM UTC
I stepped into the house and removed
my rain-soaked shoes on the grizzled entrance mat.
No one in the kitchen.
Though the aroma lingered, the coffee *** had turned itself off.
I touched the glass -- cool.
No one in the living room.
Half a pair of sequined flats were in the dog's mouth,
half a lady's pantsuit -- the black legs -- lied on the floor.
A soap opera on the screen, the volume low, the gold-tipped ceiling fan oscillating,
and Serge Gainsbourg's Histore de Melody Nelson played down the hall.
I followed the breathy vocals and wandering baseline to my room,
and there she sat.
The blinds open, veiny rain running along the pane,
on the beige carpeted floor, next to my unmade bed,
criss-crossed Jessica.
"Hey, sweetheart," I said.
Jessica smiled.
When she smiles, her cheeks go flush,
she lowers her head slowly, embarrassed,
but yet when she laughs,
she laughs loudly, boldly.
I've never understood that.
Jessica was wearing a white, spaghetti-strap undershirt
and blue cotton *******
Her brunette curls -- down, reaching past her shoulders.
Her toenails -- painted purple and chipped.
Newspapers lied strewn about her,
with puddles of acrylic paint atop them.
In her lap,
a white canvas stapled to a wooden backing frame.
She sang,
*"Princesse des ténèbres, archange maudit,
Amazone modern' style que le sculpteur,
En anglais, surnomma Spirit of Ecstasy."*
as she painted two lovers growing together
like curious oak trees.
I sat behind her on my bed. Pushed aside the tangled sheets.
She craned her neck to kiss my cheek sweetly.
"How was your day?" I asked.
"Oh, who cares," she responded.
Her eyebrows lifted, her fingertips traced my thigh,
"Tell me something beautiful."
"What?"
She dipped her paintbrush in red, in white and applied them
to the lovers' lips.
"Tell me something beautiful."
"I can't think of anything," I said.
"Try."
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 12:03 AM UTC
cracked out
humble with heaps of pride
braggadocio Pinocchio
I haven’t slept in days
so watch the hours turn into haze
blown out of barely open windows
hide me from the world
I’m making a pristine machine - unbreakable
foreseeable as a weapon of poor taste
chasing wasted with chasers
are you shaking?
only with excitement
rage
hunger
My dad says get a job, get an education
so I chose a dead vocation with no hopes of vacations
and everybody is talking about the future as if it exists
it only exists in clenched fists and endless lists
of all the wrong turns you made on the journey
from then to now
I’m eating sacred cow meat - medium rare please
coming up with ways to scare these dumb ******* kids away from apathy
to put the shield over their hearts and the rifle in their hands
but wah wah nobody understands blah blah blah
shut the **** up for once
act like you actually have a pair of *****
even if you don’t
back in the day when we used to rob neighborhood garages of beer
and played with pills like candy
nobody threw tantrums about how unfair it all is
so you think the world owes you something?
the only thing it owes you is one death
so why are you wasting all of our time with your I could have saved the world
cry baby ********
I’m looking for slutty girls
pearl necklace on her checklist
so I can slam her on page verse
me versus the world, right?
left out by all the cool kids
drinking boohoo flavored kool-aid
so I made myself a parody of pretension
cunning, coming, ***********
you are the joke so I guess that makes me a punchline
I’m running sprints from the baseline until I’m throwing up the right choices
so continue with all of that angsty impotent sadness
so long as you stay out of my part of town
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
A baseline that you feel in your chest,
Humming thick in your ears,
And your mouth,
You just want to live in their blur of impactful words,
That you don’t understand,
Because it’s just a baseline to you,
But have you ever felt so proud of someone?
That what they’re saying, or what they’re playing or who they’re being,
Becomes the only thing that’s keeping off the rain,
And you can see every tooth in the room,
Every heart that becomes unbroken and
every heart that breaks,
Well it’s a shooting star,
Baby it’s gold dust,
Because his gaze is tattooed on your body,
Under your sweater,
Under your skirt,
Yours is a crime scene littered with his fingerprints,
But you’re no ****** victim,
Jackie,
Jane,
Joan,
Wife,
Mother,
Daughter,
Survivor,
Protector,
Warrior,
Woman,
Know when it’s dark,
And subtle shadows are all that remains of your bodies,
Finding all the bones in your shoulder,
The piano strings that move your fingers,
And each indentation of your spine,
Is a bible,
But God won’t give him strength,
It’s your skeleton that is fortitude,
You’re the dragon protecting the castle,
You’re Rosie the Riveter,
You can hold up the world with perfectly manicured hands,
You will listen,
And you will care,
Let him breathe in the fractions of your soul that you exhale,
That way,
Every standing ovation and
every wound that heals,
Is saturated with the influence of you,
Though you don’t understand,
That baseline you can feel in your chest,
It is your to be proud of too.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 5:38 PM UTC
You promised me
The Stars and the Moon
She reminded
Yes I did
I promised you the Stars
And the Moon
A pure darkness
That kind, you get in your sleep
That's the baseline
To witness the Stars
And the Moon
To see the light
To see me
And to see us
Thank you
Yes, I did
Jul 31, 2022
Jul 31, 2022 at 11:13 PM UTC
I wish you understood as much as you think you do
Maybe then I wouldn't break down quite as much
You know what happened, the baseline of my insanity
But I want you to know how I feel towards the boy who dropped me, my ex-best friend, and the one I'm in love with
I want you to understand
everything that's going on in my head
The way it spins when I remember the details of last weekend
The way it pounds when I see them together
The way it screams when the same thing happens to me over and over again
But how could you understand
If I'm being honest, I don't even understand myself
I don't know how to prevent my sob fests
I'm not sure why I let it all get to me
But I do
It eats me from the inside out and I know I can't be the only one
So why do I feel so alone?
Throw a punch,
Shove me around,
Cut me deep.
Physical pain is better than emotional
You can't fix what's throwing your body off guard with a **** band-aid
It'd be easier to fix a bullet wound with one
This generation is so messed up
Everyone's hurting and nobody's willing to help
It takes a tv show for people to realize that there are others hurting more than you
And everyone's first reaction is to be mean, to tear you apart
I just can't stand it anymore
Don't tell me it'll be different
That only time will tell
I've heard it a million times and it's all a big lie
The same thing will happen over and over and over again
Like a broken record, if you even know what that is anymore
She's always going to bully me
And the fears always going to be with me
He's always going to treat me like I'm nothing
And I'm always going to let him
She's always going to stab me in the back
And I'm always going to pretend like I don't notice
And ten years from now I'll look back and realize that I was right
The same thing happened again and again just with different faces
I miss her
I need him
I crave you
I just want unconditional love and a decent nights sleep
Is that really too much to ask?
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 4:01 PM UTC
In the small hours of the morning,
Over the putter patter of rain,
There is a girl who hears them speak ,
And gladly does refrain.
She could not see what the world saw,
She sees not in black and white,
But in a vibrant vivid shade,
Radiating with light.
Music was her therapist,
The baseline was her friend,
And the chorus was a fantastic day,
You didn't want to end.
Because even on the coldest nights,
Music was always there,
And even in this mad mad world,
Music was always fair.
It was there from start to finish,
To when the day was done,
Through sleet, snow and wind,
Or on a dazzling island in the sun.
And as this girl continues,
But does not know what to say,
She can just sigh and know,
It is time to press play.
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 7:23 PM UTC
I woke up cold
back on the slab
in my tiny cell.
My head was pounding.
The last thing I remember
before I dozed off
was Mister Suit
asking me baseline questions.
Then it was a series of flashing memories.
Sparks flying,
Screams.
Voices.
A thrashing body.
Bright blood splattered
against
the pale yellow walls,
a face without eyes.
I guess the pink pill worked,
what are those ******* control boys
going to do now?
Nothing's traceable.
Me 1.
Them 0.
It should be a wake-up call for them.
Long live Moonstone!
I know it's not over yet.
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 5:50 AM UTC
I work in special education
I see people who lack
The ability to
See what others see
Feel what others feel
And suffer alongside those who suffer
These people all carry with them
Labels
Stamped on them to make it easier
For those who don't know them
To have a baseline on which to proceed
In the relationship
These labels can be words like
Autistic
They can be abbreviations like
OCD
For Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
But they are labels and as such are telling
So a new one for our age
SWP
Stupid White People
Has to be a new epidemic
I see them in my news feed on Facebook
Every day
Lined up around ****** fried chicken stores
Out in front of offices offering services for women's health
Don't hate them
Feel compassion and try to help them understand
But with the knowledge that they don't have the capacity
To do so
For just like those
in Special Ed
Thier god made them that way
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 10:05 AM UTC
Your arms
ripping at the seams,
as your pain pours into
ordered lines.
Red warning tape.
I say nothing
as each night
you add another tally
to your rising score.
I don't want to make you uncomfortable.
Silent acknowledgement
hides in the gaps between glances
as you ask me
if the short sleeves are okay.
I tell you no one will notice,
that no one will care,
as my heart rises
to the back of my throat
and your arms
blur into a wet red.
We tread together but I
can't hold your hand.
Should I say something?
Should I ask up front?
Should I look at your eyes
and confront it?
Or is that a betrayal of the
comfort in my silence.
The silence of support or
a bystander's shame?
Is it all the same?
Reaching out, a lifeline,
a baseline of decency.
You underscore every emotion
in vermillion, powered by
something only you
can deal with. When you lean on me
to root you in place I can't move.
I am helpless against you.
I hold tissues to your
fissures and figure out the best
of the worst, and test the boundaries
of where it hurts.
Mar 9, 2025
Mar 9, 2025 at 10:06 PM UTC
I feel scared to leave my house to go for a walk
Because I'm worried I'll get mugged or *****
Any noise in my house sets off
The myriad of alarms in every cell of my body
Whether I think it's a person or a ghost
The fear fills my limbs with electricity
I feel anxious about going to the gym alone
Because I feel like everyone is staring at me
Sometimes I'm afraid to text my ex who's now a friend
Because I'm preoccupied with worrying
About what they're thinking of me
When I work as a delivery driver
I won't go into backyards at night
Anytime I am around other people
I am afraid that they will hurt me
So I keep my guard up high
Hypervigilant to any animosity
But when I think about facing real danger
I get extremely overwhelmed
If I feel this unhinged by basic life experiences
How would I ever survive a real crisis?
My fight or flight is set off so often
That it's basically become my new baseline
I know it's the PTSD that causes it
And I know that I can get better
But sometimes I just feel so hopeless
Because I want to go for simple walks
I want going to the gym to be an easy decision
I want to spend time with people
To connect with people
Without worrying that they'll hurt me
Or that they secretly hate me
I want to live my life wholeheartedly
Not constantly in fear of something unseen
I want to be able to feel and exist openly
And really have a chance to be myself
To live a life that makes me happy
And I can't do that if I'm constantly
Running from shadows and
Hiding from reality behind doors and screens
I want to break out and be free
But behind any and all of my emotions
Lies a thick layer of fear
And I just keep running
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 1:57 AM UTC
(B)
Cacophony vocal cords turned inside out
Folding back upon themselves in cruel creases
Vibrations resonating in strained harmonies
Against the dire fabric of my delirious oblivion
(J)
I stomp your echoes as they travel through light
Unleashing my fangs to sting your roaring mess
Frequencies lowered from baseline to internal signal
To form a wave at the quilted patch you weaved
(B)
Disregard all visualized fear firmly penetrating realms
Of thickening white-hot spirit a roiling boiling crucible
Inflamed fiery fleshly folds of terminated temptations
Drawing your musky draught drinking your toxic brew
(J)
Your sight announces epiphanies of me sinking deeper
A manhood you portray is my repatriation, prepare the shovel
Ruin me I plead! Packet and send me down to my casket
You can't stitch me, I am twitching, itching, iced in sorrows
(B)
Clawing at the world, hissing, spitting my deep disdain
My every defense mumbling, crumbling into its derelict dust
Welcoming my inevitable defeat, my tattered, blood spattered
White flag flies, surrendering all to hail the conquering pain.
(J)
The flag waves in bloodied winds, you wing wading wounds
Trying to reach snowy mountainous top, the ascending sledge
We fall inverted bumping, exposing our cranium, posing in disgust
Hold this hawk talon scratch the earth, its the only hope you hold
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 11:32 AM UTC
its was looming
a thing in my mind
a reality that was an actuality to the reasoning behind so many things i've always doubted
the baseline of all the problems i've encountered
the things i could never figure out but along the way i saw signs
a light there and a movement here
a way of telling me that everything was happening for a reason
but im stubborn
and not to good with cliches
knowing the fact between my decision making and how i could fix anything gave me the impression that i was in control of my life
in control of me well being
in constant dis pare of what i was doing
was always hard to understand how i could control how i think
but always so hard to figure out why i am always so sad
not like im asking for the sadness to sweep through my body
don't want to think the worst and always have the worst intentions in mind
a memory
a flash
of something ive never known
had me going back and considering the things ive always once wanted
going back to the beginning of how i managed to come across my possibilities at one point
and how i got so far away from what i really wanted in the beginning
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 3:40 AM UTC
Waiting for a miracle. Seems
we took the wine
and
the candle oil a little
for granted,
should
have left
us with water and
shadows, eight days in the dark
doesn't seem so
terrible
compared to this.
They say that it's cancer,
slow and steady,
they
say it's
irreparable,
that
it's
late,
much
too late,
they say not bad news
only bad luck. Nothing left but waiting for
a miracle. **** the waiting
of this world, of
this
life.
Repressed tension in
muscles burning to break free, to flail
out, to hit something
but what
good
will that
do?
Deep
breaths.
nothing left but
to wait for that bomb to fall,
that plane to crash,
for that
baseline
pulse
to
whisper
mono-
tone
in
my
ear.
No-
thing
left
but
a
miracle.
Not bad news
--they say--
only bad luck.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
You said you
wanted to hold me
because I feel;
wanted to
run your hands on my skin;
taste the baseline
in the hopes it'd
make you heal.
My stone face
chuckled inside
as if wounds get
mended by smiles
and aftermath
gets cleared
by denial.
It's a momumental
discension of sociopathy
human feet
shuffling
shuffling
away from the empathy.
So you want to
touch me,
drag me into
the abyss
of your kiss
because I represent
what you miss?
This predatory energy
is disrupting the synergy
of Us.
Why do humans
long so deeply
for the things
that keep them weeping?
Beaten down
blue in the soul
stand by watching
chemical clouds unfold
and you want
just one moment
or an hour of my time
before you go?
If I placed a mirror
in front your face
you'd still only see
what your mind creates,
a mirage
a wish
a death grip in your fist,
caring only if
you'll get to win.
Another notch.
Another barrel.
Another halo snapped in half,
this is the aftermath
of a sky gone cold
and here you are
wanting to
hold me.
v.k poetry
venniekocsis.com
copyright @ dbv publishing 2011
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 6:52 PM UTC
shes
majestic casual
the way the lights flicker
magical, like stars
dark skies, higher
red lip stain
on the edge of
bottles - desire.
her dress, swirling.
floral breeze, breathe
electro-chilled baseline
oak floors; moonbeam
skies, goodbyes.
she's gone,
gone - this moment
so long, this is
beautiful.
© A. Leigh
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 10:09 PM UTC