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"breathlessness" poems
Rising Falling Cicada Waves Teach me to Breathe in the Depths of Breathlessness
0
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 3:32 PM UTC
Cicada Waves
Take me down while standing tall into shattered pieces fall laughing now tears rush by rolling down from this high what is known, what is seen wash this battered mind to clean watch me smile here and past rictus grins that will not last knowing of the pain to come colouring each and every moment fun screaming now in joy or pain always have they felt the same only in this sea at dark when light is gone and hope depart there i find that fateful step to take me up the slope so swept then i smile, i laugh once more offer myself as emotions ***** though in that moment of breathlessness where i don't have to face this test there is a hope that i'll just stop no more struggle to that top dear ocean then, call my soul let me pretend that i am whole for i would swim the waters again please, let me swim the waters again.
0
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
Bipolar
My doctor told me to find a more healthy way to release my stress. She said that taking two hours to fall asleep every night was rather unhealthy. So, she told me to come home and to write about the things that relax me. Here we are. Every day a thousand things run through my mind. I can't breathe because school sits on my shoulders. My job crushes me slowly and my family physically causes me pain. But through so many foggy images I can see you through them all. I can reach out and almost touch you even when I am alone in my room and I cannot get up because the panic has literally crushed me. You are there in the simplest way. The few moments in my life when I think the only way out is to let the weight of the world crush me entirely I can feel you. The times that everything is in pieces and I am vulnerable and on the floor of my bedroom sobbing, you happen to walk in. You physically pick me up and you carry me to safety. A bath and you will bathe me and you will hold me and I will collapse and you will support me. You carry me to my bed and put on a vinyl and a candle and you clean my room because it being ***** stresses me out. You turn the lights off and the fans on and you consume me in your warmth. You kiss the demons away and you strip off the suffocating clothing on me. You make love to me and you wipe away terrible tears and you drench me in your love. The seconds become minutes and minutes are now hours and you spend what is almost days with me in my bed wrapping your body around mine. I cannot breathe still but now it is the best kind of breathlessness. The kind that happens when you see heaven in the eyes of a human and your life is paused while you try to remember how it all happened. I am crushed still but now with the weight of your love. But there is no pain. None. Only the most beautiful feeling my small body has ever felt. And in the moments of bedroom bliss I am free. I am free of those things that eat at me and those thoughts that stress me to tears. With you I am free.
0
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 9:14 PM UTC
Doctors orders
My doctor told me to find a more healthy way to release my stress. She said that taking two hours to fall asleep every night was rather unhealthy. So, she told me to come home and to write about the things that relax me. Here we are. Every day a thousand things run through my mind. I can't breathe because school sits on my shoulders. My job crushes me slowly and my family physically causes me pain. But through so many foggy images I can see you through them all. I can reach out and almost touch you even when I am alone in my room and I cannot get up because the panic has literally crushed me. You are there in the simplest way. The few moments in my life when I think the only way out is to let the weight of the world crush me entirely I can feel you. The times that everything is in pieces and I am vulnerable and on the floor of my bedroom sobbing, you happen to walk in. You physically pick me up and you carry me to safety. A bath and you will bathe me and you will hold me and I will collapse and you will support me. You carry me to my bed and put on a vinyl and a candle and you clean my room because it being ***** stresses me out. You turn the lights off and the fans on and you consume me in your warmth. You kiss the demons away and you strip off the suffocating clothing on me. You make love to me and you wipe away terrible tears and you drench me in your love. The seconds become minutes and minutes are now hours and you spend what is almost days with me in my bed wrapping your body around mine. I cannot breathe still but now it is the best kind of breathlessness. The kind that happens when you see heaven in the eyes of a human and your life is paused while you try to remember how it all happened. I am crushed still but now with the weight of your love. But there is no pain. None. Only the most beautiful feeling my small body has ever felt. And in the moments of bedroom bliss I am free. I am free of those things that eat at me and those thoughts that stress me to tears. With you I am free.
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21
*Hungered for a taste   of your elixir's essence, drunken inhalations    of your poetry a splendiferous whirl  of time & space 'tween darkly scented moons     and sun's adoration, blithe starry nights amidst meditative new dawn's effervesce,  spirited of the heart, gleaned in the soul, yearnings of another   chapter's paradise universal experiences etched of hourglass sand,  written upon endlessly     chimerical verses wildflower gardens drenched     of dandelion's plum wine swooning under a hypnotic scripted spell, intoxicating power of unchained symphonies dancing amongst skies' released euphoria  resonating in a song's    reprised melodies, breathlessness of delirium's   celestial pauses   in vaporous breezes'   unfurling undulation, captivated by rhythmic   destiny reverberating in      loins' pleasurable calling   quenched of sacred      offering's quell transcending earthly    persuasions' rhyme, let me lick the nectar from    your  poesy's  insatiable  lips, sweet mercy's healing    captured in rapturous    surrender's reawakening ~* *Je veux que vous tous, tu me manques* Ce que vous manquez de moi?
0
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 12:05 AM UTC
Je te veux (sensual)
The infinity of lights made her feel infinite Safe Like all the light would drive out the dark in this glowing city One She was as vast as the vast city around her New York Chicago Seattle all or None of the above Dream World Safe Safe enough to jump Not really to jump Maybe more to fly The fear did not affect her action In her hazy dream world city She could fly she thought She places her feet on the slippery unforgiving iron Stepping Up Looking Down The fear was still not there This was not a suicidal act She wanted to jump Not so much to jump as to fly King of this concrete jungle The ***** of the heart The pulse of the hand The breathlessness The final step Shes soaring now Shes falling now flying:soaring:floating falling:flailing:breaking you won't break yourself if you believe you can't There's the confliction The child that believes she can fly The grown girl who lays broken to die Her body is broken like a cartoon Like Wile E cayote after falling off some boulder There was a whole body There was not blood guts or reality Hazy dreamworld city In this flowing capital she beams with a twisted sense of perseverance She sustains no injuries Like tripping on those uneven breaks of pavement They say you're never supposed to sleep through the falls in the falling dreams The pit of the stomach Winded Clammy Punched in the stomach Falling Dreams Yet she did Why was the fear not there? It was not in her sleep cycle not on top of the skyscraper in hazy dreamworld city She saw her broken body rise to life Why could she sleep through the fall? And the next sky scraper she fell from ...Not in hazy dreamworld city ...Would she walk away? Was she jumping from the money that built that skyscraper? Or the classic Freudian symbol, dream specialists might contend Translation of one image onto another So I was jumping away from men Commitment What's new? Spend money and time Loose friends and crime Jumping away from reality Soaring now Falling now Falling into the flowing light of the hazy dreamworld city As flies will always return to fluorescent light bulbs, naive Like if she got close enough to it She would become it She would consume it The light would consume her Illuminated The dark expelled to the smallest corners of this earth flying in this hazy dreamworld city.
0
Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 7:16 PM UTC
Hazy Dream World City
The infinity of lights made her feel infinite Safe Like all the light would drive out the dark in this glowing city One She was as vast as the vast city around her New York Chicago Seattle all or None of the above Dream World Safe Safe enough to jump Not really to jump Maybe more to fly The fear did not affect her action In her hazy dream world city She could fly she thought She places her feet on the slippery unforgiving iron Stepping Up Looking Down The fear was still not there This was not a suicidal act She wanted to jump Not so much to jump as to fly King of this concrete jungle The ***** of the heart The pulse of the hand The breathlessness The final step Shes soaring now Shes falling now flying:soaring:floating falling:flailing:breaking you won't break yourself if you believe you can't There's the confliction The child that believes she can fly The grown girl who lays broken to die Her body is broken like a cartoon Like Wile E cayote after falling off some boulder There was a whole body There was not blood guts or reality Hazy dreamworld city In this flowing capital she beams with a twisted sense of perseverance She sustains no injuries Like tripping on those uneven breaks of pavement They say you're never supposed to sleep through the falls in the falling dreams The pit of the stomach Winded Clammy Punched in the stomach Falling Dreams Yet she did Why was the fear not there? It was not in her sleep cycle not on top of the skyscraper in hazy dreamworld city She saw her broken body rise to life Why could she sleep through the fall? And the next sky scraper she fell from ...Not in hazy dreamworld city ...Would she walk away? Was she jumping from the money that built that skyscraper? Or the classic Freudian symbol, dream specialists might contend Translation of one image onto another So I was jumping away from men Commitment What's new? Spend money and time Loose friends and crime Jumping away from reality Soaring now Falling now Falling into the flowing light of the hazy dreamworld city As flies will always return to fluorescent light bulbs, naive Like if she got close enough to it She would become it She would consume it The light would consume her Illuminated The dark expelled to the smallest corners of this earth flying in this hazy dreamworld city.
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85
It's the blend of black and white The collapsing of good and evil Like parallel universes becoming one Like the pull of an angel to the dark side Or of a devil redeemed Or like two children at play rolling down opposite sided hills Until they meet in the middle of a valley But gray is not just two colors combined It is a feeling too Like an uninvited dark cloud Looming over head Crowding you in an empty room Gray can even be a sensation A feeling of breathlessness Despite knowing that your lungs work perfectly It is the color of numbness Of no personality and "I don't care" Its the color of not having an appetite And a lack of social interaction Gray is the black and white feeling of a panic attack When the lights start to blend together But that slowly turn black as you start to disassociate from the world around you And you only hear your ears ringing and your heart beat Heart beat... The one thing that makes us real The one thing that we all have in common. BUT we have more than just hearts We have minds Minds that make the human race diverse Gray is the color of diversity It represents the complete blend of black and white To think of the world in black and white would be a crime Not because there is never a right or a wrong But because when you see the world in gray, You witness a world of beauty, pain, error Emotions that don't exist in clean margins I love the world that I see in gray. Can you see it too?
0
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 12:09 PM UTC
Gray
Beyond the butterfly feelings In the whirlwind of our intimacy A full option sensual desire Distance distancing distance All at once till we hit the ****** The zenith of pleasures and feels Like the breakthrough of Miracles Sounds of Soughs, ex and in hales Hot Moments of breathlessness Scratches of speechlessness Mouth agape, dead-in-moments long squeezes, short grips, sweats Body vibrating, breath whispering Emotions revealing, turn ons Passions imploding, hard ons Intense kinetic motions of kardias Slippery shining fleshy mammalians Till the moment of implosion: ****** That sweet ecstasy moment when all that exists is what you feel
0
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 10:09 AM UTC
"Sounds of Sough"
When I look at myself, I am not beautiful. My feet are twisted and gnarled like the wood of an old tree. My limbs are gangly and thin. My eyes are too large, My hair is too straight and too dark, And my ******* are too small. In the mirror each day, I cannot tell myself I am a radiant woman. But when the music starts, I shine. The notes hit me like rays of the setting sun, and every hue of grace and passion is splayed across The folds of my dress, The arch of my back, The curve of my ankle, The stretch of my throat. Each harmony, each crest and fall of sound and feeling Is a wave that breaks over me, And I am lost. I drown in emotion, in the distinct expression of self that only movement can allow, And in that moment, I forget beauty. I forget love and hatred and pain and joy, and as I forget I am freed. I forget because they no longer belong to me. I have given them to the melody, To the dance which draws them out of me like venom- The next move, fraught with the tension of 'goodbye forever', The next turn, spun by the unraveling of my heart, The next leap, lent weightless wings by the joy of a first kiss, The next slow reach carved from the desperation of 'it's all my fault'. As they leave me, they become me, crashing down on the audience I've also forgotten, burning the bright after-image of my soul into the shadows of theirs. I have never seen myself beautiful. I have never looked. I have forgotten to look. For when the music hits me, it turns me in on myself, and I can see nothing but my own spirit- a shower white hot of sparks- And the cascade of the notes in folds of velvet against my mind. I have never seen beautiful, but I have felt it. It feels like a smooth silk shoe and blisters on my feet, It feels like the trickle of sweat along my brow and the stab of muscle cramps in my legs, and the scrape of hairpins and sequins. It feels like breathlessness when the curtains open. It feels like the worn wooden stage upon which my heart may bleed all it wants. For it does, it gushes, and it is the ugliness of passion. It is terrifying, it is raw, it is light-starved and beaten, it is all I have. And when I get up on a stage, people call it beauty.
0
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 8:11 PM UTC
Swan
When I look at myself, I am not beautiful. My feet are twisted and gnarled like the wood of an old tree. My limbs are gangly and thin. My eyes are too large, My hair is too straight and too dark, And my ******* are too small. In the mirror each day, I cannot tell myself I am a radiant woman. But when the music starts, I shine. The notes hit me like rays of the setting sun, and every hue of grace and passion is splayed across The folds of my dress, The arch of my back, The curve of my ankle, The stretch of my throat. Each harmony, each crest and fall of sound and feeling Is a wave that breaks over me, And I am lost. I drown in emotion, in the distinct expression of self that only movement can allow, And in that moment, I forget beauty. I forget love and hatred and pain and joy, and as I forget I am freed. I forget because they no longer belong to me. I have given them to the melody, To the dance which draws them out of me like venom- The next move, fraught with the tension of 'goodbye forever', The next turn, spun by the unraveling of my heart, The next leap, lent weightless wings by the joy of a first kiss, The next slow reach carved from the desperation of 'it's all my fault'. As they leave me, they become me, crashing down on the audience I've also forgotten, burning the bright after-image of my soul into the shadows of theirs. I have never seen myself beautiful. I have never looked. I have forgotten to look. For when the music hits me, it turns me in on myself, and I can see nothing but my own spirit- a shower white hot of sparks- And the cascade of the notes in folds of velvet against my mind. I have never seen beautiful, but I have felt it. It feels like a smooth silk shoe and blisters on my feet, It feels like the trickle of sweat along my brow and the stab of muscle cramps in my legs, and the scrape of hairpins and sequins. It feels like breathlessness when the curtains open. It feels like the worn wooden stage upon which my heart may bleed all it wants. For it does, it gushes, and it is the ugliness of passion. It is terrifying, it is raw, it is light-starved and beaten, it is all I have. And when I get up on a stage, people call it beauty.
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39
The infinity of lights made her feel infinite Safe Like all the light would drive out the dark in this glowing city One She was as vast as the vast city around her New York Chicago Seattle all or None of the above Dream World Safe Safe enough to jump Not really to jump Maybe more to fly The fear did not affect her action In her hazy dream world city She could fly she thought She places her feet on the slippery unforgiving iron Stepping Up Looking Down The fear was still not there This was not a suicidal act She wanted to jump Not so much to jump as to fly King of this concrete jungle The ***** of the heart The pulse of the hand The breathlessness The final step Shes soaring now Shes falling now flying:soaring:floating falling:flailing:breaking you won't break yourself if you believe you can't There's the confliction The child that believes she can fly The grown girl who lays broken to die Her body is broken like a cartoon Like Wile E cayote after falling off some boulder There was a whole body There was not blood guts or reality Hazy dreamworld city In this flowing capital she beams with a twisted sense of perseverance She sustains no injuries Like tripping on those uneven breaks of pavement They say you're never supposed to sleep through the falls in the falling dreams The pit of the stomach Winded Clammy Punched in the stomach Falling Dreams Yet she did Why was the fear not there? It was not in her sleep cycle not on top of the skyscraper in hazy dreamworld city She saw her broken body rise to life Why could she sleep through the fall? And the next sky scraper she fell from ...Not in hazy dreamworld city ...Would she walk away? Was she jumping from the money that built that skyscraper? Or the classic Freudian symbol, dream specialists might contend Translation of one image onto another So I was jumping away from men Commitment What's new? Spend money and time Loose friends and crime Jumping away from reality Soaring now Falling now Falling into the flowing light of the hazy dreamworld city As flies will always return to fluorescent light bulbs, naive Like if she got close enough to it She would become it She would consume it The light would consume her Illuminated The dark expelled to the smallest corners of this earth flying in this hazy dreamworld city.
0
Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC
Hazy Dream World City
The infinity of lights made her feel infinite Safe Like all the light would drive out the dark in this glowing city One She was as vast as the vast city around her New York Chicago Seattle all or None of the above Dream World Safe Safe enough to jump Not really to jump Maybe more to fly The fear did not affect her action In her hazy dream world city She could fly she thought She places her feet on the slippery unforgiving iron Stepping Up Looking Down The fear was still not there This was not a suicidal act She wanted to jump Not so much to jump as to fly King of this concrete jungle The ***** of the heart The pulse of the hand The breathlessness The final step Shes soaring now Shes falling now flying:soaring:floating falling:flailing:breaking you won't break yourself if you believe you can't There's the confliction The child that believes she can fly The grown girl who lays broken to die Her body is broken like a cartoon Like Wile E cayote after falling off some boulder There was a whole body There was not blood guts or reality Hazy dreamworld city In this flowing capital she beams with a twisted sense of perseverance She sustains no injuries Like tripping on those uneven breaks of pavement They say you're never supposed to sleep through the falls in the falling dreams The pit of the stomach Winded Clammy Punched in the stomach Falling Dreams Yet she did Why was the fear not there? It was not in her sleep cycle not on top of the skyscraper in hazy dreamworld city She saw her broken body rise to life Why could she sleep through the fall? And the next sky scraper she fell from ...Not in hazy dreamworld city ...Would she walk away? Was she jumping from the money that built that skyscraper? Or the classic Freudian symbol, dream specialists might contend Translation of one image onto another So I was jumping away from men Commitment What's new? Spend money and time Loose friends and crime Jumping away from reality Soaring now Falling now Falling into the flowing light of the hazy dreamworld city As flies will always return to fluorescent light bulbs, naive Like if she got close enough to it She would become it She would consume it The light would consume her Illuminated The dark expelled to the smallest corners of this earth flying in this hazy dreamworld city.
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85
“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being “in love” which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two. - Captain Corelli’s Mandolin. nov 1, 09 you had me standing with chattering teeth in the novemeber chill. the first time i had spoken to you in weeks. i was holding myself together so well. and then i broke. like you knew i would. hell we both knew it. red box.hat.scent.shirts.skin.warmth.silence.depth.heart.wrecking. were held to the touch of wrong. the sweet eyes of hidden truth. you have now set me up twice but i like being taken advantage of when its you taking.i am the perfect descripiton of your sweetest downfall, your only downfall.i want this all to come. come straight into me again like you always did. i mean i saw you smile when you wanted to walk away. but something in you made you stay.you could have broken my grip in half but instead you laughed at the jokes you wished you didnt have to hear. and i know this never happened. we never happened.ever. so im writing about a night that didnt exist.your hands slipping over skin.trembling under the brush of your hand.shaking all over like it was happening all over again. “everything is so ****** up now. what do we have to lose now? everythings all ****** up.” “am i just going crazy cuz i miss you?”-atmosphere. i think you were impressed by the outcome of my words.
0
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 1:38 PM UTC
Cover the Roots
“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being “in love” which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two. - Captain Corelli’s Mandolin. nov 1, 09 you had me standing with chattering teeth in the novemeber chill. the first time i had spoken to you in weeks. i was holding myself together so well. and then i broke. like you knew i would. hell we both knew it. red box.hat.scent.shirts.skin.warmth.silence.depth.heart.wrecking. were held to the touch of wrong. the sweet eyes of hidden truth. you have now set me up twice but i like being taken advantage of when its you taking.i am the perfect descripiton of your sweetest downfall, your only downfall.i want this all to come. come straight into me again like you always did. i mean i saw you smile when you wanted to walk away. but something in you made you stay.you could have broken my grip in half but instead you laughed at the jokes you wished you didnt have to hear. and i know this never happened. we never happened.ever. so im writing about a night that didnt exist.your hands slipping over skin.trembling under the brush of your hand.shaking all over like it was happening all over again. “everything is so ****** up now. what do we have to lose now? everythings all ****** up.” “am i just going crazy cuz i miss you?”-atmosphere. i think you were impressed by the outcome of my words.
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8
For what it's worth i loved you. Even when my eyes were too afraid to meet yours. I just wanted to escape the breathlessness of being near you. I was waiting for the rain to pass over our circumstances. My heart was like a never ending earthquake. The beautiful landscape of your mind was never the reason. For what it's worth i really loved you.
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Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 6:11 PM UTC
For what it's worth
I long for the animal you hide Won't you come out to play? You won't know unless you've tried This space is safe, promise it's okay I am going to leave my mark One way or another Raw untamed fervid spark It is you I am going to smother Let the voracious hunger mount Escalating each minute Primal breathlessness paramount You are your own limit I'm not going to make love to you I utter rather sweetly Neither am I going to **** you But own you...... completely I want to tear you apart Don't make any sudden moves Pulsating beat of your heart Every inch of me approves I want to forget my own name While I'm busy moaning yours I promise to start quite tame Until you are out of your drawers My body I do herby bestow Let me show you how I whisper in your ear and let you know The time is Now
0
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 1:52 PM UTC
The Thought ******
Blood-soaked blue sky Smell our vinaigrette of helplessness The honey crying chords of a zillion golden cubs Roots that won’t die Bursting through us Dark crimson walls high Too shame our innards Tear-drenched rain Draining our conscience Pulling us toward the marble migraine Where blinded gerents continue the measured deterrent Of life desperate Keeping hearts from heads And minds from mouths Away from this marble pavement High up top, in cobwebs of restitched tapestry Skeleton beast, less beastly in breathlessness... A surge of sun spurged light in clustered cusps Blows into this lecher To carry our vividness Like pappus in great gusts...
0
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 7:42 PM UTC
Will raindrops rise in Summer?
I sip my beer, the relief of foam the last remnant of civilisation like a porcupine shawl alcohol is the spine slice beneath the skin welcoming me in. Electric lights shining bright eels wriggling in a pool of light like Frankenstein reborn the monster within the feathers of a passing dove give flight. Sometimes I feel like grilled asparagus the breathlessness of sentiments wrapped in tin foil the coil of perfection at gas mark 7. Sitting in my bathtub and a 3 piece suit electric toaster bubble and squeak and fidgety machete at the ready the voice in my head says, 'hey man, steady!' the institute transmutes its underplay I opt to not execute on this occasion instead soak up the libation of liberation. Safe in the knowledge; tomorrow is another day.
0
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC
Death or Asparagus
He lost his wings at birth Soaked in the misery of nothingness Child caught the face of a dejected mum Dad gasps for breadth in vanity of time What lurks in the darkness beyond? Where is the answer, the poor child reels Eyes glinted at ignorant jubilation Not again, the village moaned uneasily Wings refused to flap inspiration Sun refused to dry soaked misery rule Conscious of the stream of pain not long On and on breathlessness overcomes hopeful desire Heart overflows with helplessness Birds fly around filling the air with hope Child closes eyes not to twig bitterness So that sorrow could fly away All at once the days come by No means to endure the crunch of time Denial by the offensive of futility of all Rescue for survival nowhere to find Staring the freshness of gentle breeze Hope wades in with a struggle to live ‘Abrakadabra’ the witch doctor screams So that sorrow could fly away Don’t give up my brother Determination beckons with authority Sorrow and hopelessness dumped on the side So that no other child sees it no more Holding firm to tomorrow that is not lonely Misery in abyss pushed aside to give way Alas the flower glows and sweetness flows Like the river of life beyond comprehension Fly away your sorrow.
0
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 4:21 PM UTC
Fly Away Your Sorrow
You’re so close to the stars. i wonder if you can hear the secrets i told the constellations that one night i got lost on the roof trying to find my way without you. maybe you’ll get lost in the darkness up there and feel the way i feel when i get lonely sometimes. you’re going to cities I’ve never seen and you’ll be walking on roads my feet haven’t touched and in a way I’m jealous of the new air you get to breathe. the little intricate fibres that make up my lungs are burning with this constant northern oxygen I’ve been force feeding them. i wonder what its like to breath you in at 30, 000 ft above sea level going 600 miles per hour. i wonder if my lungs would burn out of blissful breathlessness for you. I wonder what jet lag looks when it's painted across your face. i hate being on planes, but I’m so curious about how tightly you’d let me hold your hand up there. until i met you i didn’t understand why people thought it would be so special to travel around the world with another person, because i’d always thought it would be better to be lost alone. but i get high off the thought of walking european streets with you.
0
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 4:56 AM UTC
Airplanes
it all starts to blur together and every day fades further from the horizon. every word uttered, every smile grinned, every surface touched falls short from the whole when not lead back to you. I haven't recognized my name since it was last spoken from your mouth. I haven't let my hands float above the sunroof as I've traveled down each lonely highway, stretching farther away from you. I haven't exhaled all the air in my lungs or been able to relax all the tension in my muscles from their constant preparation for the crash- waiting on standby only makes the blow more painful. I haven't been able to swim in the ocean without feeling your love. you're like a tide, pulling me back and shooting me out again, crashing over my body with immense pressure, yet so soothing- coating every cell on my body with liquid- you pour over me and drown me whole. I haven't been able to sleep the same.   Every time they ask me how I'm doing or if I still love you, I mutter about the "not enoughness" and the lack of, while staring at my hands, trying to retrace the last time i ate a full meal or fell asleep for more than three hours. The one thing I run back to kills me like a bullet, firing all the way through: The smoke in my lungs mimics the breathlessness I felt when you choked my throat It's turning me to ashes, but I choose to not get better. There's some correlation between the way your existence has haunted me like a ghost, Sticking to my skin like all this inhaled smoke, Demanding for the light to be left on in case you wander from the unknown- Back to your garden, your chokehold, your throne.
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Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 9:11 PM UTC
I'll leave the light on for you
it all starts to blur together and every day fades further from the horizon. every word uttered, every smile grinned, every surface touched falls short from the whole when not lead back to you. I haven't recognized my name since it was last spoken from your mouth. I haven't let my hands float above the sunroof as I've traveled down each lonely highway, stretching farther away from you. I haven't exhaled all the air in my lungs or been able to relax all the tension in my muscles from their constant preparation for the crash- waiting on standby only makes the blow more painful. I haven't been able to swim in the ocean without feeling your love. you're like a tide, pulling me back and shooting me out again, crashing over my body with immense pressure, yet so soothing- coating every cell on my body with liquid- you pour over me and drown me whole. I haven't been able to sleep the same.   Every time they ask me how I'm doing or if I still love you, I mutter about the "not enoughness" and the lack of, while staring at my hands, trying to retrace the last time i ate a full meal or fell asleep for more than three hours. The one thing I run back to kills me like a bullet, firing all the way through: The smoke in my lungs mimics the breathlessness I felt when you choked my throat It's turning me to ashes, but I choose to not get better. There's some correlation between the way your existence has haunted me like a ghost, Sticking to my skin like all this inhaled smoke, Demanding for the light to be left on in case you wander from the unknown- Back to your garden, your chokehold, your throne.
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Her lips scream " KISS ME " Then whisper " kiss me now " At once a thousand nerve-ends wake electricity rampant beneath tender sweet candyfloss skin Anticipating contact her inner rhythms quicken from ‘ bump-n-grind ’ to ‘ swing-beat ’ Hearts play along to the new tune now She smiles with those eyes the message of her mouth Delight I understand at once Replying without reaching for a word No second thoughts invade the privacy of spontaneity I just move to accept this luscious invite In a flash ecstatic urges awaken erotica in our minds as we close our telltale eyes a split second before the precious perfect impact Seems magnetically heads tilt Moving closer till our silently screaming half-opened mouths knowingly meet in once vacant space Intentions projected instantly accepted Mouths express new feeling Tongues take on new meaning Suggestions of intensity requesting passions yet to be fulfilled The warm silk snake of temptation reacts to vibration Twisting Rolling Curling ******* Chewing Playfully biting Unspoken promises Exciting She plays a sensual game Active / Passive Strong / Soft Control / Yield Secrets revealed Releasing for a moment our mesmeric communion Poised in breathlessness we stare as we subtly swallow the essence of our watery endeavour Eyes smile that insatiable smile Still thirsting chemical reactions conceived by our emotions Speed of light sensations send shivers down our spine Time sleeps for a moment Lost in a fragment of dreamscape we too escape “ Mmmmmmm ” The gentle sigh waves through the air We lose contact with our unwelcome surrounds as once again we entwine to re-enact the passage of our bliss A repeat of erogenous stimulation replays the symphony of desire in a higher vibration Mouths in motion mirror dancing Automatic reactions assume control Whilst my mind Is with her mind my Soul is with her Soul Her grip tightens Wanting more wanton more Red-hot lava in the veins seeking to surface in a fiery eruption Our watery essence Seems to feed the flames Yearning I hear her Burning I feel her Softening Stiffening Pulsing I'm in her.
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Jul 7, 2010
Jul 7, 2010 at 3:49 PM UTC
PROMISING PROMISCUITY
Her lips scream " KISS ME " Then whisper " kiss me now " At once a thousand nerve-ends wake electricity rampant beneath tender sweet candyfloss skin Anticipating contact her inner rhythms quicken from ‘ bump-n-grind ’ to ‘ swing-beat ’ Hearts play along to the new tune now She smiles with those eyes the message of her mouth Delight I understand at once Replying without reaching for a word No second thoughts invade the privacy of spontaneity I just move to accept this luscious invite In a flash ecstatic urges awaken erotica in our minds as we close our telltale eyes a split second before the precious perfect impact Seems magnetically heads tilt Moving closer till our silently screaming half-opened mouths knowingly meet in once vacant space Intentions projected instantly accepted Mouths express new feeling Tongues take on new meaning Suggestions of intensity requesting passions yet to be fulfilled The warm silk snake of temptation reacts to vibration Twisting Rolling Curling ******* Chewing Playfully biting Unspoken promises Exciting She plays a sensual game Active / Passive Strong / Soft Control / Yield Secrets revealed Releasing for a moment our mesmeric communion Poised in breathlessness we stare as we subtly swallow the essence of our watery endeavour Eyes smile that insatiable smile Still thirsting chemical reactions conceived by our emotions Speed of light sensations send shivers down our spine Time sleeps for a moment Lost in a fragment of dreamscape we too escape “ Mmmmmmm ” The gentle sigh waves through the air We lose contact with our unwelcome surrounds as once again we entwine to re-enact the passage of our bliss A repeat of erogenous stimulation replays the symphony of desire in a higher vibration Mouths in motion mirror dancing Automatic reactions assume control Whilst my mind Is with her mind my Soul is with her Soul Her grip tightens Wanting more wanton more Red-hot lava in the veins seeking to surface in a fiery eruption Our watery essence Seems to feed the flames Yearning I hear her Burning I feel her Softening Stiffening Pulsing I'm in her.
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I'm stuck in this room Trapped by the decaying white walls That I scrape away at, Mindlessly, as I shift From medicated dreams to Manic insomnia. I thought the last thing I said to you was Don't leave me here. My eyes bleed As I try to remove the demons Infesting me, Creeping through my lashes Into my irises. The droplets stain the walls, Fingerprinting my frenzied panic, Echoing the last thing I said to you. Why did you leave me here? The air is intoxicating, Shifting from breathlessness to weightlessness. I'm sure they poison me here. And you, the fallen angel of my thoughts, You fiendish whisperer, You have felt my fear, Witnessed its brutality In its shifting manifestations, But still you left me here.
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Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
The Last Thing I Said to You was Don't Leave Me Here
Do you remember the humid red that stained your cheeks? Do you recall the sultry desire that overran your judgments? Do you maybe reminisce on the unsynchronized gasping of needed breath? Do you recollect on ripped clothing during insistent moments of unshakeable craving? Because it was this unshakeable craving that controlled you, it overtook you and you forgot to resist. It was this unshakeable craving that let you remember, recall, reminisce, recollect on your sticky love.   Do you remember the burning of skin as you transferred heat?         Or the pressing up against the door?         Or curled toes?           Or the paralyzing quivers? Do you recollect on the sweatiness amongst the heavy sheets? Do you perhaps reminisce on how it felt like an addiction you couldn’t overcome? Do you recall the “no-it’s-not”, but really it was? Because really, it was. It was the sum of these parts, but they oddly equated to more.                   It was this “no-it’s-not”, when really it was, that let you remember, recall, reminisce, recollect on your sticky love. Do you remember what it was? Do you recall wanting, needing, yearning? Do you recollect messy hair, breathlessness, than the stillness? Do you reminisce on this quiet stillness? Because it was this stillness that lets you remember, recall, recollect on, reminisce on your sticky love.
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May 14, 2012
May 14, 2012 at 7:11 PM UTC
Sticky Love
“I’m unraveling,” she said. “Where’s the thread?” he asked. “I’ll pull it.” Pull a thread and this dense fear spins out and away into gales like bits of flying paper like cyclones like breathlessness. Then my life floats down in a clean white line: a declaration a direction. Exhaled, unraveled.
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Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 2:23 PM UTC
Unraveling
Quenched your thirst with nothingness That final night we spoke, Strangled by the Dragon's claws Until your wristwatch broke. It stained your lips, your fingertips The membrane of your nose; The queerest shade of mushroom blue I'd ever then behold. And were it not for breathlessness That swallowed up the sound I'd found the shade befitting of The body on the ground. As children, brave, you sailed away More places than I'd go. I followed each resounding path And lived as your echo. Motivation to taste the dregs Of an oblivion Was not a path I'd trace myself Or follow where you'd been I broke off, denied the blue Before it stained me dead I should have stayed a pace behind To share the way I'd tread You're Peter Pan at twenty-two And nevermore a day I watched the stars up in the sky And saw you sail away. Your wristwatch, though broken Still clicks on in my head The last place that you're breathing now In dreams that grace your stead. I never could quite come to tell you I dreamt of drowning in one ocean For the rest of my days.
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Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 1:33 PM UTC
You Turned Blue and Sailed Away.
You tell me repeatedly that I am wasting away, that my arms are too slim, my waist too cinched, and my chest too boney, but the only thing I hear is your insecurity making me its mirror, and in actuality I have never been more proud of my progress. Instead of concern for my well-being, all I feel when that sentence slips from your lips into the stale air that creeps into my ears is a knife in my gut. I am not wasting away, I have already wasted. I wasted away my breathlessness when he told me he cheated on me. I wasted away the utopian idea of who I ached to be and what I strived to look like. I wasted away the pressures I gave into when he wanted to force himself on me. I wasted away the insecurities and trust issues I harbored for five years. I wasted away his manipulations, his deceit, his pathological lies, his slander for my name, and the guilt I felt for cutting him out and clawing my way back in. I wasted away the anger and depression that almost consumed me. I wasted away my lack of knowledge toward myself. I wasted away my blank path, and I wasted away my restlessness for the next chapter, because I am the next chapter. So, the next time you feel the need to tell me that I am wasting away, The next time you think it's okay to say something like that to me, I want you to not look at me, but see me. I want you to feel the curve on my hips and the stretch marks on my thighs that I am okay with having. I want you to look into my eyes and see the fire I reignited in my soul to warm the blood that pumps through these deep vessels which carry each piece of the shattered self that I put back together like the mouth of the river that flows straight into the heart of the ocean. No, I am not wasting away. I’m not wasting another day.
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Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 10:31 PM UTC
Wasting Away
You tell me repeatedly that I am wasting away, that my arms are too slim, my waist too cinched, and my chest too boney, but the only thing I hear is your insecurity making me its mirror, and in actuality I have never been more proud of my progress. Instead of concern for my well-being, all I feel when that sentence slips from your lips into the stale air that creeps into my ears is a knife in my gut. I am not wasting away, I have already wasted. I wasted away my breathlessness when he told me he cheated on me. I wasted away the utopian idea of who I ached to be and what I strived to look like. I wasted away the pressures I gave into when he wanted to force himself on me. I wasted away the insecurities and trust issues I harbored for five years. I wasted away his manipulations, his deceit, his pathological lies, his slander for my name, and the guilt I felt for cutting him out and clawing my way back in. I wasted away the anger and depression that almost consumed me. I wasted away my lack of knowledge toward myself. I wasted away my blank path, and I wasted away my restlessness for the next chapter, because I am the next chapter. So, the next time you feel the need to tell me that I am wasting away, The next time you think it's okay to say something like that to me, I want you to not look at me, but see me. I want you to feel the curve on my hips and the stretch marks on my thighs that I am okay with having. I want you to look into my eyes and see the fire I reignited in my soul to warm the blood that pumps through these deep vessels which carry each piece of the shattered self that I put back together like the mouth of the river that flows straight into the heart of the ocean. No, I am not wasting away. I’m not wasting another day.
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