"disturbingly" poems
Devilish torment -- her body is my lament.
She crawls beneath the cracks and finds
The dark cellar, where my "worst" ferments.
She feeds it as it rots,
Just to make its wine more bitter . . .
Squeezed from the finest lies,
Designed to make an addict from a quitter.
Like a dark and tempting vacuum
That my soul cannot escape,
Attractive in its repulsion,
It's a part of me that loves the way it hates.
Masturbatory and selfish,
With a thirst that can't be quenched . . .
She finds the spots within me,
That make even deities flinch.
Their knees crack and crumble,
At its all-consuming "nothing". . .
I never knew my zero could be so wholly unbecoming.
She, or it, will surely be my undoing.
Yet, somehow, that keeps me moving.
So uncomfortably I'll admit . . .
It's the brutal nature of it all,
That I find so disturbingly soothing.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 8:12 PM UTC
Beastly is this monster state yet many damsels cannot avoid
Some may call it disturbingly conflicting and become annoyed
Where rationality coexists with irrationality in an unstable realm
Pretty monster states navigate this journey as captains at the helm
Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
No need to disguise your fury or depressions
Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
This is just part of your amazing expressions
Wonder is this monster state since the inception of Adam and Eve
Men can only hope to be compassionate, steadfast and never peeved
One moment, pretty monster states can be loving and best friends
Next moment, challenging one’s good nature and spirit to extreme ends
Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
No need to disguise your fury or depressions
Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
This is just part of your amazing expressions
Frightful is this monster state like a suspenseful thriller or mystery
Only those who are not faint of heart can sleuth this case history
Where a profound will of character serves to stabilize one’s constitution
Bringing the monster state to an uneventful but amenable restitution
Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
No need to disguise your fury or depressions
Pretty monster states, Pretty monster states
This is just part of your amazing expressions.
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
The cherry blossoms, pink and luscious, in full bloom.
Below the koi fish swim round, round in circles.
The sun reflects off silk kimonos with a shine radiant, dazzling,
With red lips against painted white skin, blindingly beautiful.
A walk like unraveling ribbon,
And hair like ink, bound tightly a few strands bound for escape.
Untouched skin tainted by stares, clipped wings useless for an escape,
Freedom comes in the hope of riding a cherry blossom, swelling in bloom.
The leaves swirl to the ground, spiraling in nature’s ribbon.
The glares of tigers ********** her, kimono falling to her feet in circles,
Eyes of blue, green, never turning away, trapping those beautiful,
The nature of a hidden world, shaming and stunning, confining yet so dazzling.
The snap of the gold-trimmed fan weaving in and out, dazzling
The crowd with effortless twists and turns; clenched tightly, no room for escape.
A dance of untamed water in a disturbingly beautiful
Unity of desire and fright. A young bud not on the verge of bloom
Thrown into a crowd of tigers to be spun in uncontrollable circles
And entrapped by the unflinching gazes in silk ribbon.
The game is simple: mesmerize a pack with grace of ribbon,
Attend engagements that ask for a dance, tea pouring, but never dazzling
That pure smile too brightly. Fool the ***** tigers to follow in circles,
But never trust a tiger that promises a chance of escape.
Never fall for love’s first bloom,
Never become the next to lose the light. Stay pure and stay beautiful.
A kimono is only as pure and as beautiful
As the woman underneath. By cutting the ribbon
Of virginity by a friendly lamb, instead of tiger’s bidding for the bloom,
Only leads to the fall of a shooting star, gracing the sky with its dazzling
Beauty, and the hope and wish of an everlasting escape
Is crushed by the weight of a soapy rag, washing away the hope in circles.
Though the pain of the cage binds the mind in endless circles,
Though tigers ignored the aching backs and blistered feet, staring at only the beautiful,
It is better, safer to stay in the hidden world, banishing all thoughts of an escape.
Keep the tigers in a tight ribbon,
Stay young, fresh, never letting the mind wander away from dazzling,
And never fall like a cherry blossom after its first bloom.
A walk like unraveling ribbon,
The sun reflects off the silk kimono with a shine that never ceases from dazzling,
And forever watching the cherry blossoms, pink and luscious, fall in full bloom.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
he slipped beneath my skin
pervading the depths of my psyche
he did so, silently
whilst I was sleeping
disturbingly unaware
of his spirit lurking within me
i was possessed
i was tainted
i was branded
with a scar shaped like a *****
all i can say
is that something like ****
comes with a ******* life sentence
Aug 23, 2021
Aug 23, 2021 at 9:43 AM UTC
I used to believe in good old days,
Still concerned about the little ways.
To get back in my childhood era.
Those uncountable acquaintances,
Now they are just faded faces.
Buzzing around oftentimes,
I do look at them with all my gracious Rhymes.
Those long sandwalks, I heard many voices & those preacher talks.
Standing on the top of a pile,
I saw the world with my pure human eyes.
My incapability of not performing as others,
Don’t forget we came from different mothers.
Though the course may be disturbingly fascinating,
Spot you there at the end of the lives you kept devastating.
I walked clean and I did no mean.
There was nothing to fear, but one day someone molested me who was so near.
Crippled inside myself that night,
Was so devastated couldn’t spoke a word inspite.
Moments still glare, dig in your knife so that you can pare.
Shadows no more controls me,
I fiercely play with them, and still move freely.
Enjoyed every bit just like my first bicycle wheelie.
I did both,from playing with slum folks to slept like a sloth.
Now I miss my never ending era.
Entered my puberty,
with little bit of curiosity
To not to have those thoughts control authority.
I was wild, a state called child.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 2:49 PM UTC
They call her Violent Violet
for the purple bruises that bloom
dangerously deep and disturbingly dark
along the tops of her knuckles.
To her it’s decorative floral.
In fights she clutches violets
offering their vicious beauty
to any contending adversary.
She’s a volatile force of nature.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
It just takes a heartbeat.
You are brought into this world
Shaking and crying
Confused and lost
Awake and aware
Unable to speak
Barely breathing
Eyes wide with innocence
Pure as sunlight
Screaming from the pain
And your mother
Collapsed in agony
Suddenly detached
From her first born
Relieved yet bitter
Nostalgic and anxious
Her precious child
With nothing more
Than a pulse,
A heartbeat,
And wide eyes
Revealing the universe
With every blink
And you grew up so fast
Too fast, she claims
As you watch the home movies together
Over popcorn
And cigarettes
And the pixels expose
How you waddled through the weeds
Speaking in tongues
And gibberish
And you fell down
But you never cried
You look over
And your mother is passed out
On the old tattered couch
Slowly, mechanically, you rise
And sneak out the front door
Delicately and deviously
Alone and brave
Unaware that the youth
Are far from invincible
Your pal Trevor meets you
A block down
Blasting that punk rock ****
Because your mother hates it
And secretly, so do you
And in a heartbeat
You're in his front seat
Screaming about the world
And how ******
It all is
Trev smiles sadistically
Passing you a ****
Of something sweet
To take all your troubles away
And suddenly
You're flying
Down the highway
With your arm out the window
A wing spread
Your heart bursts
You grow up so fast
And suddenly
You don't hate the world at all
But it's far too late
You look over
And Trevor is passed out
In his old, beat up Chevy
Gracefully, rapidly, you rise
And ascend up to the pearly gates
Tragically and disturbingly
Alone and afraid
Suddenly aware that the youth
Are far from invincible
And your mother gets the call
Four in the morning
Distraught and confused
Suddenly the words pieced together
And she lost her baby
To this cruel, ****** up place.
She screams.
And sobs.
You were taken from this world
Shaking and crying
Confused and lost
Awake and aware
Unable to speak
Barely breathing
Eyes wide with innocence
Pure as sunlight
Screaming from the pain
It just takes a heartbeat.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 9:29 PM UTC
a quote from the movie "The Big Short"
~
*a screen provocation,
you laugh out loud,
mime hating yourself
that you are joiining in
tacitly acknowledges the truth
of abbreviated wisdom
you,
disguised minority of
modest disagreers,
c'mon, admission submission,
more truth in it
than deserving of argumentation
a one liner throwaway,
neatly designed,
leaves you disturbingly
probed,
thoughtfully tormented and
aroused
poetry just a vehicle,
your vice for revelation,
the critical door to open is this:
do people hate the truth?
inescapable reality
ironical probability,
truth well disguised,
in plastic shell of lying
from the Hollywood's would be poets,
an escapade from the escapists
let us not pretend
that you and I
uncaring, for by virtue of
your reading this, you are
poetry aficionado,
required to deny the lie,
and yet,
accept
the
granular view
that we are rising writing thru the wronged end of
a telescoping microscope
so I scare scar a tissue sample from my tongue
and the cells spell
this rejoinder:
all your lies are poems,
incomplete truths,
and that's why people hate poetry*
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 11:10 AM UTC
Demagogues of our society; daftly delivering
disarming delusions of decrepit delights.
Dealing in powder, rock and liquid death,
demurely doled out in droves to the
willing unconscious, dysfunctional deviants
of the land.
Blindly offering devotions, flaccid devotions
to plastic, white collar deities; giving new
definition to internal deformity, through
decelerated dejection.
Desperate and emotionally dismembered,
defrauded by quick, cheap decadence,
debauchery, and mental decay in many
deliriously delicious forms...pick a flavor,
name your poison!
Delegate your defect, as those with
doctoral degrees in defunct traditions
do deviously delineate their demented
designs...for our future.
DejaVu?
Perhaps, but in fact, it is we
who sniff, inject and drink up their drivel,
decidedly and dutifully depleted of
intellect by way of dubious data.
Duplicitous dullards...sanitize and
deodorize their fiendish lies...as we,
WE do nothing!
Not enough of us dumbfounded or
dumbstruck by their deceitful smiles.
Full of dread and deep dismay, by
the statutes of the day...I, for one,
will dream of better days, when we
shall defeat these diabolical demons.
But for now, down beaten, downtrodden;
we will continue to be denigrated for
the duration.
Clever dissection; dumb as they want you
to be,
disparity of all creativity...individuality...
and all of your rights...controversially.
Our disgruntled displeasure doomed...to
fall on dormant hearts...and we,
debilitated and daunted, lives dismantled,
are now forever haunted, by our freedoms
demise...by days we could question
their smiling lies.
Demagogues; Big Brother...such delinquents
dosing up the masses with a deluge of powder,
rock sedation and liquid elation...pick your flavor,
name your poison.
At the end of the day WE are ONE...duped,
defaced, defeated...and to continue on this
road, our final denouement will come
disturbingly disguised...as DEATH!
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC
I always knew that lightning
could split the sky
as the world stared calmly
at all that lies inside distraction.
That just a touch from the strongest hands
takes the breath away
from all that has been written
on the edges
of thoughts of satisfaction.
I have always felt the shadows of the night
even though they were hidden
from the innocence of my caring view.
They are just as bold in the morning
like silvery crystals flying
by sweet lovers
as glints fading into a powerless time
we once pursued.
Constant tears
have been inches apart
from the concern felt for foolish reasons,
when what is unknown is revealed.
Moreover, I have always known
that anguish is felt by beating hearts
when everything carried on their cufflinks
silently cries not to be real.
However, I did not know
that lightning is arranged
in wild waves we feel in our sleep,
as it does not strike disturbingly.
Nor, that the shadows of the night
can come unmasked
to trace its fingers as an exhale
across hearts with destinations
unknown to me.
Dec 19, 2011
Dec 19, 2011 at 8:56 PM UTC
So many things are swimming through my mind right now.
So many thoughts, memories, emotions, and demons.
They float by like sheets of ice,
chilling me down to the deepest part of my broken soul,
making me numb.
Their compositions are so complex I avoid them for my sanity.
My mind is so distortedly dysfunctional.
It's filled with an infinite number of all these things,
but if I focus on one of them for too long, my mind pushes them out of reach.
My mind is a vast labyrinth guarded by sarcasm, bitterness, and a mask of composure,
filled with wastelands, trenches, and locked doors.
Only those that are patient will ever find the vault at its very center,
and even then, my mind is nearly impossible to crack.
This vault is like no other.
It's one that you never
want
to
open.
Despite my mind's shortcomings, it's quite clever in this one sense.
The vault contains demons so repulsive, so revolting, so disturbingly terrifying,
why, my mind can't even remember what it put there.
But at night, as my mind pulls at dreams,
the vault is most unfortunately opened when my guard is down.
I sometimes wake up breathless,
with only faint recollections of the nightmarish memories and demons that my mind conjured and unleashed in slumber.
As suddenly as I awaken, the dark matter of my mind retracts back into the vault before I have much else to do.
I then peel myself off of my bed, scrape the attempt of a smile out of the gutters of my soul, and go about my day.
There are other times when the solid walls of my mind melt away for reasons I cannot explain.
Everything then swims through my mind,
all the darkness of it tugging at the back of my consciousness,
wearing away at my thought process,
and filling up my mind with hazy grief.
Nonetheless, the vault of my mind is better off locked.
However, by design, a vault must have a key to open it.
The key to mine takes many different forms,
and the interesting part is, I don't know what the key looks like.
From day to day, my mind is an imposing, impenetrable fortress,
to the point where even my own mind can't determine its complexity.
I live each day, watching, searching,
dreading the day when I finally find what frees my mind
from its nightmares, secrets, and its vault.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 9:56 AM UTC
The past 2 nights I’ve dreamt of a plane crash… this is a bit scary since I’m flying back home this saturday. I know that dreams are just dreams, problems in our mind to reflect things we’re going through in our lives. So maybe some part of my life is kind of like a plane crash right now but something about this dream tells me that’s not it..
I see people, all around me fighting for their lives as the plane goes down while I sit calmly in my seat listening to ‘And Counting’ by Lights watching the frantic faces around me.
Everyone is so scared, focused on saving their lives while all I can focus on is how beautiful the afternoon sky looks, how I can see the green grass getting closer and closer.
I think of how in this moment I can fly, I unhook my seat belt and my body involuntarily flys out the side of the plane, I fall for what feels like forever, I feel free, free in flight. My mind drifts into deep thought of all the memories I cherish most, I open my mind only to realize that I’m about to hit the ground, the last memories I get sends tears to my eyes.
And just as I’m about to hit the ground…
I’m awake…
-YB, A Not So Poem about a Dream
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
These ****** intentions
seem to **** more than those so-called "reported" serial *******
To say,
-off the record-
that you give me both...
feels very disturbingly corrupt
yet thats not why you see me blushing.
can this burning betrayal flesh be helped or better prevented? probably not
my fight or flight instinct is to be the only suicidal bunny wet with desire, pressed up against the starving fox
wanting you to give me it all.
this is to be the root of my eternal damnation.
have all these urges
-that even you have yourself-
really be tainting the fragile lining of my soul using only my sinful secrets like a parasite?
or is the questioning of my own morality while you **** me religiously the real sin?
How dare my mind even wonder while you posses me from the inside.
if i am to be ****** for finding what you only long for then so be it,
mark me ****** and chisel me into the future's mythology.
and on that day,
the divine powers from above decide to strike me down,
when they smight me,
plaguing me with some eternal curse
I will welcome all fates with a smile.
I found a love so powerful it made destiny insecure
resulting as my name serving as some cautionary tail of knowing ones place
forever blazing in the stories with danger and warning.
but even if the sight of me were to turn you to stone, making me your demise,
i will deliver your marble tomb each and every time.
I will always choose to make you hard-always.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 10:44 PM UTC
there are five
and a half
blankets
piled on the end
of my bed
and if you're wondering
how i can have
half of a blanket
*(well
it's a long story
but rest assured
it's not complete.)*
in any case
i've tried all
of them
and none of them
are managing
to make me
feel
any better.
tomorrow
i will turn on
the printer and
attempt to salvage
what's left
of the collective
innocence of this
thwarted generation.
doubt i'll get
very far
but i can claim
what most can't
and that
my dear friends is
a little thing called
courage.
*(scratch that
i'm still afraid.)*
in fact
i could write
a long and
boring list
of all of my
typical
and irrational
fears.
*(but i won't bother
because i trust
that you
have enough imagination
to cook up a few
for yourself.)*
i'm trying
to tie up
every hanging thread
but i've been
trying for so long
that i might give up.
i remember this one time
a long time ago
when you yelled
you really yelled
over some stupid
frying pan
that i hadn't washed
or something.
no
it was definitely
a frying pan
i remember that
and i will die by the
fact it was a frying pan.
once in awhile
when someone's
mad
i stand there
woodenly
and feel disturbingly
unsafe
and i think about how
i didn't wash
that frying pan
and maybe
if i had washed that
frying pan
when you asked
neither one of us
would have a few
thousand pounds of
suppressed anger inside.
i know
i just know
you're mad
and i know
you know
that i'm mad
whether or not
i'm willing to admit
that i'm really mad
which i'm not.
*(but i am
by the way.)*
i'm hitting the
breaking away
but i'm hitting it
late
and i'm hitting it
hard.
like an
overly confident
concrete
wall.
back to the printer
and tomorrow
i would
hope
*(and i would also
pray
if i happened to be
the praying type)
(but i am not
the praying type)*
that you all know
that the very
stubborn
streak in me that
could turn out to be
my most valuable asset
is also the thing
that will
promptly
and rather
unceremoniously
deploy a
bomb.
*(just thought i should
remind you that
in every strength lies
the ***** in the armor.)*
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
I desired everything...almost.
Her skin was sweet and silky,
like caramel.
Her legs summoned desperate curiosity,
small scars confirming mortality.
Her ******* so seductively,
protected her heart from any and everything.
Her lips..
Those ******* lips,
displayed multitudinous emotions,
while evoking one thing in me..
NEED.
Her eyes were saturated with love,
stolen, never returned.
Souls who thought they had a chance,
with this majestic bibelot,
crashed and burned.
But her hands weren't quite right.
They had met too many bodies,
and strangled too many hearts.
She touched me with discouraging confidence,
meticulously impersonal,
and disturbingly arrogant.
Her hyper awareness of carnal pleasures,
allowed her to manipulate with false intimacy.
Calculated movements,
determined to **** you in.
Rehearsed responses,
emotional and physical.
We shared beautiful moments,
laughs,
and kisses.
But I found truth,
hidden in her fingertips.
I am no longer mesmerized,
by the illusion,
of her.
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 7:21 PM UTC
When I am a thousand miles away
and you are seemingly a million more
here where I trade the sun for rain
dwell in the intermittent patches of grey
I distract myself in gardens green
study madala art of spider weaves
decaying, diaphanous maple leaves
the cool of wet mud wriggling around my toes
and yesterday the black birds watching me
disturbingly, the cawing crows
and I could hardly think or speak
as I dialed you long distance on the phone.
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 10:31 AM UTC
I have used all the energy left in my gaunt body to escape this bed
Now I travel down steps that creak with noises of our past love as we wore them out by always racing each other up them to get here
Now I trudge down these stairs, alone, into the kitchen as I let the white french doors swing open to let the spring breeze join me
The wind recoils off of my pale face as I hold the cheesy tourist coffee mug that still bares your lipstick on its brim
I return back to the table where I find the morning newspaper with a date on it that reveals I haven't left the house in quite some time
And I flip to the crossword puzzle that apparently you solved many weeks ago, but the clues are hidden as I now recall the day your pen exploded in boisterous blue ink and we laughed together as we scrubbed each other's hands
Sink water splashed all over and ruined your flowing white gown, but that was no issue as we danced like it was raining and my hand creeped along your collarbone onto your shoulder, until you slapped it away because it was time for work
After brief lapses of intoxicating joy, the color in the walls and outside the windows oozes down Earth's canvas to uncover the true flavor or black and gray that surround me
It's in this return to reality that I utilize my lasts bits of sanity and avoid the sleeping pills to enter back into my slumber
I make my way back up the hollowed-out steps that are void of love, and collapse back into this bed as I drown in it's disturbingly comfortable sheets and pillows
In a few hours I'll arise again to trudge down to the kitchen and see if you're there, smiling, singing, solving strenuous puzzles with your immeasurable skill
And on the precipice of madness, the brink of lunacy, I'll whisper your name so I can stop tip-toeing along the boarder of suicide
For in these repeating nightmares, my balance has grown weary, and for moments my only desire is to join you beneath society, and into the great beyond
Goodnight
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
Every time I pass by the old empty house there on the corner-
I wonder-
Had I been there, in that time- not so long ago-
One sunny Sunday- in the spring step of her youth
Would she have seen me on the walk?
And if I had- with bouquet in hand- climbed those five wide steps to the door
And knocked...
Uninvited-
Would she have danced with me on that day-oh, not so long ago?
"Here but for a picnic" I would say-
Would she laugh and take the day with me?
Or would my presence there-
Uninvited-
Disturb her from her untitled words
And change things too disturbingly?
Alas it is only a romantics dream
That Miss Dickinson would allow an idyll of mine own
To enter into her pre-scribed theme
And so I put aside the thought of my hearts truth
And turn away from that empty window-as I pass by-
I will not be the one to steal those words from the World-
I will avoid those five wide steps to the door-
Uninvited.
And I will dismantle my time machine.
Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 7:30 AM UTC
Life is so friggin' weird, I'll tell ya.
The older you get, the weirder it gets,
and it just keeps on getting weirderer.
Grossly weird.
Wrongly and disturbingly weird.
Upsettingly weird.
But then, now and again,
pleasantly weird.
Delightfully, excitingly weird.
Weirdly endearingly weird.
Then weirder still.
Off-puttingly weirder.
Over-sweetly weirdly weirder.
Understatedly, low-key weirder to the highest degree contradictory weird.
Maybe weird isn't so weird after all.
When it's the only constant in life,
then weirdness becomes the only reliably normal thing, oddly enough.
Sep 26, 2020
Sep 26, 2020 at 4:26 AM UTC
I apologize for liking you on Hinge purely on intuition
It hurts to admit I mistook your kindness as a door open for my wonder
I’m sorry I yearned for you from the day I heard your most gentle voice
From the day we first met, when I tried to find you in the parking lot of a cinema, in the rain
Dearest,
I was up too many mornings, counting minutes from 6 a.m.
At the time you wake, even on Saturdays and Sundays
I secretly wish you slept more, to comfort the chest of my anticipation
I’m sorry to have learned your schedule, purely out of care, and also romance.
I honestly promise I do not stalk,
except through invisible feelings,
except through the way a body shows without touching or words without telling
But I’m sorry that I find your perfectly correct grammar in texts quite irritating.
Your composition too sensible and unbelievable
Your ignorance towards me, too hurting
I feel too jealous because you might never think of me in a soft pink light
Or because you might actually never think of me in any light
I’m very sorry however, as I think of you too frequently,
and I don’t know when that will end
It isn’t your fault.
This is surely, absolutely on me
for I know I lack colors
Both in flesh and feelings
As there are plenty of fish on Hinge; so open to the ocean of your eyes
I should be no obstacle to your perfect match and mutual passion
I regret swimming in the river of my endless, unrequited sea
I regret to have had this sort of courage with only you, which is oddly shocking
I’m sorry to bother you when I reach out to say hi,
Because I carefully try to calibrate that weekly
I’m sorry for the hundreds of times I believed
there might be one-tenth of a chance
Of me and you,
in an alternative universe
where I might deserve you
Maybe?
And I apologize again for always bringing up movies with you, in sense and nonsense
Because I am unable to tell you what I want to
As my 29-year-old stupid inhibitions play around
I apologize if I behave disturbingly distant,
but I will always be curious about your birds, and your neck that hurts
As you can clearly see,
I am sorry for innumerable things
But
I am never sorry to have met you
I am never sorry to think of you, and write of you
I see you
in colors of pink, red, and yellow,
in colors of blue and sea
in embrace of distance and memory
I just wanted to put this all out
in any way
Let this be a digital ship-in-a-bottle,
in the middle of a vast ocean
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 2:50 AM UTC
my fingers
hovered
over the screen
ghosting over the letters
thinking of texting you
like it could somehow
let you know I was thinking of you
and I have fifteen
pictures of you on my phone
and I looked over them all
like seeing your face
in two dimensions
could make up for the fact that
I hadn't seen in it three
for two days
and then you were right behind me
and I don't think you noticed what I was doing
but god, it felt like happenstance
was on my side
because your voice
there's nothing too special about it
objectively
(as if I could ever be
objective
about you)
it's not deep
or husky
or dripping ***
like some people I know
and most of the time it's not quite soft
it's slightly slippery but
with sandpaper edges
but I love it
because it's yours
and I love the face you make before you sing
off-key, usually
but you don't hold back and
I love you for that too
and you're not particularly tall (you're exactly average, actually)
(but I'm barely on the tall side of average and
she's even taller so
you seem smaller than you are)
or dark
or even handsome, by most standards
but you're like a breath of fresh air every time I see you
(swiftly taken away by your bone-crushing hug)
and I love the face you make
when you're skeptical
even though it looks nothing
like a skeptical expression should
I even don't hate
the things I should hate you for
because you have never
made me feel like I am
difficult to love
(even though
I think I am)
Although I'm a little annoyed with
how you made all my love poems
disturbingly heteronormative
for a while
I loved you
before you told me
explicitly
that you liked
being around me
and I loved you even more after that
good god,
I love you so
and it scares me because I shouldn't
and it scares me because I can't
and it scares me because one or both of us will end up hurt
but I'll take the pain
now and later
*I'll always sacrifice
for the happiness of my friends*
like I said
and you thought I was being so kind and
noble
but I think it's cowardice
and it has
never
felt like a choice
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 3:32 PM UTC
People will have their opinions,
disturbingly
here we are miles apart,
concurrent
living under moss
mowing another's grass,
a tumultuous blast.
Love
stood up
living in the past.
Sep 15, 2023
Sep 15, 2023 at 1:48 PM UTC
They say Capricorns are fearless but also reckless.
We're fearless because we have this idea that the earth works on its own. What is to happen will.
Yet...
We are reckless when it comes to the heart. There's this visual of this perfect love that we seem to think is capable with every intimate soul we meet. When that is not the love we intend to require we drop everything and run.
Our sanity and peace of mind means more than others. Not to be absurd but we are disturbingly at peace with ourselves and that balance is to precious to be broken.
Because I don't think you understand, we are the constellation of determination yet ambition. We are magical yet a majestic sign. We dance like lilies and communicate like lovers at 2am. We are dangerous because we know the balance but simply don't care.
We can't wreck what was never there
We can't fear what we can't see
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 12:06 PM UTC