"cartoonishly" poems
Unskilled romancer of moods...
bruised like a plumb from
false starts--fumbling, falling
into graces...whose?
Some bright-bulbed
peanut gallery staring at you
from the rears of their minds.
Watching you cartoonishly swept
off your feet by cosmic record skips.
The cavities of your features filling
with shadows, as if touched up for
your variations on danse macabre.
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 2:10 PM UTC
Deep and dark emotions always creep out at the worst times
When you're trying to sleep
When you're out to eat
Or when you're trying to be intimate with someone you love so deeply
you just might burst
There is nothing romantic about it
The sudden flood of tears
The shaking hands and the clumsy fingers
Foggy eyes can't aim well
with their words or their intentions
Most times it just seems easier to resign into solitude and give it up
throw in the towel
I'm not fit for the human interaction that I crave with my
heart
my soul
my mind
my very skin buzzes with the thought of someone
Someone just as damaged as I am
Someone just as loved as I'm supposed to feel
Someone just as sad
and unwilling to talk about it
The happy little life tinged with the bittersweet tears of healing and the
sad tug of what has been left behind
Nostalgia is clinging to my heels
though I've kicked her in the head a few times
Her bouncing ******* and swaying hips still follow me to and fro
as if hooked to me by an two ton invisible chain
Seductive as a politicians **********
She is so intent on getting her way that she forgets that I'm the original, and she's the copy.
The cartoonishly overdrawn ideal of who I once was. The love hungry blue heart that had no true place in the world.
But once you've found your place in the galaxy, no earth dwelling ***** could even try to keep you around.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
something brushes my cheek as I sleep
tiny footsteps perhaps
and I awake in the vaguely lit room
somewhat startled
for this is the second time in two nights
but on this night I do not simply turn over
the dreams, these nightmares of sorts
are beginning to extend
well past the moment of being awake
now propped on one arm
I focus my eyes and sweep
first across my pillow
slowly to the edge
of the mattress
which is inches from the floor
I see it
not scampering
but walking away at a normal gate
this bright neon red spider
large and life like
moving away towards the corner
wait!
I'm fully awake and I'm seeing this,
the thought occurred
my every nerve twitching in icewater
it's legs cartoonishly long and thin
I watched in stark silence
as it bent low and weaved its way through the space between my slippers
then behind a box of videos
I sat in disbelief
again asking myself if I were awake
but I knew
there was no need to slap myself this time
I slowly leaned towards the box and pulled it quickly
towards me
it was gone
and I was still awake
still in some place between disbelief and shock
how does one escape their nightmares
when they cross from dream to reality
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 7:15 PM UTC
As we laid in bed
I pulled you closer and guided your arms around my body
for you to hold me like you once did before.
You didn’t resist but I could feel that the warmth between us,
that deep connection where our hearts beat together
had long since left.
In that moment I became desperate for you again.
I went to the bathroom and peed,
there were clothes all over the floor
and a spider tried to spindle its web in my hair
to which I had a fierce panic attack
especially when I saw the spider after frantically trying to dust it out of my hair
and off of me.
I returned to the bed and the other guy had left
so it was just me and you
and I took my shirt off and you laughed at how hard my ******* were and tweaked one of them.
I asked if you had plans for the day and you said no
and I said I wanted to spend time with you
because it was a nice day out
and you agreed
and I said that I wanted to talk
to which once again you seemed open to but less than interested in and I found myself back-peddling as to not frighten you away
but I knew that it was too late
and i could feel you realize that whatever hopes that you had of us being just friends
had turned into something you had to protect yourself from.
I slid over on top of you to get close and to smell you again
and you pushed me off
and I rolled off the side of the bed
onto the floor and laid there, cartoonishly, unable to move,
paralyzed in knowing that I would never be able to get close to you again
and I woke up thinking about how much
I love you.
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 1:24 PM UTC
Romantic Love has always been ironically, over romanticized for me.
It just appeared to be too much
Too irrational
Too cartoonishly blissful
This could be from a life of witnessing too much romantic hurt
Too much of the flip side of what romantic love could do.
The harm.
The loss of trust
All the broken pieces
So I never felt it was something worth seeking
It was cute
It was good for movies
But now I guess I get it
Love songs have a bit of a deeper meaning now
And I get the bliss.
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 12:15 AM UTC
Pachydermal memories, sticky adhesions
Loosening the reigns of thoughtful ride
Outsourced skills seeping the membranes
In an amniotic suspension
The quest lays in retaining
Not to drain, yet keep momentum
As a leak at the bottom of the ocean
The strain refills
Full-filling circulation
The gentleman swims in the crowd
Of his metropolitan pathways
Imbibing, desirous affections
Afflicting self response modes
I shall surely like to be there
But the train ceases to brake
Or abide. The subway scatters island thoughts
Motioning exward, refusal to mesh
Though in mirth we blend
Against the parent in congress with the goal
Aligned with their strife
He watch, the office traffic’s
Yellow bleeding before all signal
Yet pushes forward pileups
His symptoms pertain; uneasy persisting exquisite
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 9:17 PM UTC
your mustache became your
mouth's permanent hibernation--
"Thus Spoke Zarathustra"
no more.
your brows fell down on your
cartoonishly crossed eyes, fighting
to get a last good look at you.
as if a cradle's starry
revolutions counted you out.
your snowed in smock neatly tucked
in for posterity.
your sister's doting hands trailing off.
to where that mare waited in a flurry of
blows--so it could saddle your mind.
Dec 21, 2024
Dec 21, 2024 at 1:13 AM UTC