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"faultlines" poems
i was reborn, like a phoenix but without all the glory. i didn't set the hospital on fire; i struggled to pull myself from the ashes of a former prodigy, one entwined with madness in all the right ways laced with misery like a noir heroine, so sexily depressing- whereas now i am just empty i did not emerge unscathed, no, not like the fledgling, i am covered in scars and faultlines from where the sorrow tried rip itself from my sorry body and the crimson glue holding me together replenishes itself more diluted each time before i died i swung through technicolor episodes of scarlet, rose, ecstatic white, and the sapphire blue to haunt my dreams waking and at night but the color leached away, the antiseptic began to pervade, refilled my veins and purged me of everything but grey. before my death, i reigned over the darkness, banished it when it did not suit me, manipulated reason, lived in a waking dreamland, in complete control of my life- but now, when i am fragile as eggshell, it's the only place i can hide, a haven where i can act like the lack of light masks an imagined vivacity and not a skeleton in flat black and white, disguises and emboldens me, allows me to be whole again, to forget the borders, my limitations indiscernable in dusk i used to cast my own light- now i am my own shadow and in the dark i fumble for what i used to be, reconnect myself with the world throw myself from the cliff and hope to find my wings again
0
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 3:41 PM UTC
4/04: error: page not found
I can't decide if earthquakes are caused by shifting rocks Or if they are the result of the growing faultlines on my palms. If the quake I feel is from jolts of energy formed due to the earth's crusts rubbing against each other Or if the quakes are caused by the friction between my palms and my face Perhaps earthquakes have nothing to do with the fact you left dragging your suitcase behind you And perhaps it has no correlation with the rubber soles of my shoes and the cobblestone ground Maybe earthquakes are screams of, "THIS IS TOO MUCH." Maybe earthquakes are millions tremors whispering, "I can't take much more of this." I've been struggling with differentiating equations involving inner shaking and outer breakdowns But I have come to a conclusion that the probability of earthquakes existing within me is fairly close to one And that the probability of earthquakes being caused by your hurt is possibly closer to one Most days earthquakes begin from within - The place where your hands used to cradle my heart is cold And the ice is travelling from my arteries to my fingernails Other days, earthquakes stem from the screams of the masses - "You don't matter," they say, even though I am very much aware That a flick of my finger could cause the collapse of a tower worlds away I can hardly comprehend how sudden releases of pain can cause a rift in time and space And sometimes earthquakes are the seizures that could keep someone alive and **** them at the same time.
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Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 2:55 PM UTC
Earthquakes
I can't decide if earthquakes are caused by shifting rocks Or if they are the result of the growing faultlines on my palms. If the quake I feel is from jolts of energy formed due to the earth's crusts rubbing against each other Or if the quakes are caused by the friction between my palms and my face Perhaps earthquakes have nothing to do with the fact you left dragging your suitcase behind you And perhaps it has no correlation with the rubber soles of my shoes and the cobblestone ground Maybe earthquakes are screams of, "THIS IS TOO MUCH." Maybe earthquakes are millions tremors whispering, "I can't take much more of this." I've been struggling with differentiating equations involving inner shaking and outer breakdowns But I have come to a conclusion that the probability of earthquakes existing within me is fairly close to one And that the probability of earthquakes being caused by your hurt is possibly closer to one Most days earthquakes begin from within - The place where your hands used to cradle my heart is cold And the ice is travelling from my arteries to my fingernails Other days, earthquakes stem from the screams of the masses - "You don't matter," they say, even though I am very much aware That a flick of my finger could cause the collapse of a tower worlds away I can hardly comprehend how sudden releases of pain can cause a rift in time and space And sometimes earthquakes are the seizures that could keep someone alive and **** them at the same time.
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19
please don't ask why my words are so intent on chaining your heart to the nightmares I've stuffed my pillows full of with promises rusting into blackened iron links and truths that would shine better as lies I never meant to cage you in my dreams - it's just that my eyelids solder shut and I cannot pry my silver eyelashes apart without cracking at the faultlines I forget to mention whenever I wake up alone it's just that my soul needs more than a little oiling more than a little you to breathe away this metal corroding its way into my tear ducts, dripping rust down my cheeks, choking on 'blood oxide' and mechanical residue buried underneath my fingernails it's just that every ******* 'i love you' is yet another link around my finger, wrenching the life out of me, blue shadows engraved on my skin never shine like silver in the sun but if this is the only clanging chain of heartbeats echoing in metal boxes from me to you; what can I do? it's just that there was a lock somewhere along this mess of coils and chinks and mistakes but oh god, when did the rust between you and I melt into three thousand miles of mercury trickling thermometer poison into everything we say? I've lost my keys; they had sunk first and I will sink last it's just that the clinking thump thump of your heartbeat is my lullaby; it's just that knowing you breathe warmth is enough to cool the burning silver in my lungs; it's just that close to you is the closest I will ever feel to 'alive' it's just that if I can't keep you - nobody can
0
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 4:56 AM UTC
silver
please don't ask why my words are so intent on chaining your heart to the nightmares I've stuffed my pillows full of with promises rusting into blackened iron links and truths that would shine better as lies I never meant to cage you in my dreams - it's just that my eyelids solder shut and I cannot pry my silver eyelashes apart without cracking at the faultlines I forget to mention whenever I wake up alone it's just that my soul needs more than a little oiling more than a little you to breathe away this metal corroding its way into my tear ducts, dripping rust down my cheeks, choking on 'blood oxide' and mechanical residue buried underneath my fingernails it's just that every ******* 'i love you' is yet another link around my finger, wrenching the life out of me, blue shadows engraved on my skin never shine like silver in the sun but if this is the only clanging chain of heartbeats echoing in metal boxes from me to you; what can I do? it's just that there was a lock somewhere along this mess of coils and chinks and mistakes but oh god, when did the rust between you and I melt into three thousand miles of mercury trickling thermometer poison into everything we say? I've lost my keys; they had sunk first and I will sink last it's just that the clinking thump thump of your heartbeat is my lullaby; it's just that knowing you breathe warmth is enough to cool the burning silver in my lungs; it's just that close to you is the closest I will ever feel to 'alive' it's just that if I can't keep you - nobody can
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78
awakened cows chewing a mountain pass dawn warms their massive eyelash rows clinging drops of dew spark in rhythm with the cud darkness rumbles distant now clouds dispersed to other nights while metaphoric bull unhinged resounds the cosmic rut must i hide my love for this unweave my judgment from my sight? what in me defies all sacred holiness forever sung? bees will ravish even newly opened buds who am i to battle with the lightning's surge? presumtuous coverings can net me willing lustful stars i see a field i open fertile ecstaticly unblessed enough lost heroic i had thought to know pretends a second thrum i see in random eyes the breaking sky and lightning branches over snaking crevices a sound of faultlines folding free tectonic sexplay deep in lava belly far behind the summit mount-- there i see the sun a base as well earthen seedbeds heating heights of life space is cracked! vast width enwombs the narrowness i preen in nervure's shine, a sponge mycelial with soak of raining carbon underground the drumming hoofbeats shake and settle days dehiscing spinning sun to somber eve in active rest dreaming pasture real within a trailing effort's ease
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Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC
singing to Indra
i. (kc) was the catalyst the first to convince me that I could be loved and the only one to make me believe I was capable of loving back ...for about two weeks. ii. then (jt) arrived popular suave and dorkily crushing on the one girl who couldn't return his affections. but it wasn't until the first time I heard my name and 'beautiful' in the same sentence that i realized there might be faultlines in my heart shaking the love out of my body like lunch money from a scrawny kid's pockets. iii. the first time i broke someone the process was anything but (sl)ow and it was then that i realized i was getting too comfortable sleeping with regret, curled up like a black cat beside me. iv. fortunately for me (je) had 20/20 vision. he saw through the mask, forced me to face myself until i couldn't help but punch my own reflection and though his words almost convinced me that i could be saved his empty stare reminded me that i wasn't worth the trouble. v. looking back, the initials should've warned me that he would be the (ss) to our sinking ship, that we were fated to drown. but he was coldstronghard as metal and it took me a two years, one month, and one day to learn that even silver can be tarnished. vi. the name was fitting, i guess. (jr) was finer than any greek hero and were he a god, I would've named the planets after him too. he was as reckless as the roman empire scratching himself on the thorns of my soul just to find something worth saving. was it because of compassion or guilt or shame that I put Ariadne's string in his hands so he could navigate his way out and run for his life. maybe it was because I was so used to the echoes in my head IendeditIendeditIendedit that through the tears, I still managed to smile at the words he ended it.
0
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 3:14 AM UTC
A mixtape for every boy who looked for songbirds in my heart and found only monsters with sharp teeth.
i. (kc) was the catalyst the first to convince me that I could be loved and the only one to make me believe I was capable of loving back ...for about two weeks. ii. then (jt) arrived popular suave and dorkily crushing on the one girl who couldn't return his affections. but it wasn't until the first time I heard my name and 'beautiful' in the same sentence that i realized there might be faultlines in my heart shaking the love out of my body like lunch money from a scrawny kid's pockets. iii. the first time i broke someone the process was anything but (sl)ow and it was then that i realized i was getting too comfortable sleeping with regret, curled up like a black cat beside me. iv. fortunately for me (je) had 20/20 vision. he saw through the mask, forced me to face myself until i couldn't help but punch my own reflection and though his words almost convinced me that i could be saved his empty stare reminded me that i wasn't worth the trouble. v. looking back, the initials should've warned me that he would be the (ss) to our sinking ship, that we were fated to drown. but he was coldstronghard as metal and it took me a two years, one month, and one day to learn that even silver can be tarnished. vi. the name was fitting, i guess. (jr) was finer than any greek hero and were he a god, I would've named the planets after him too. he was as reckless as the roman empire scratching himself on the thorns of my soul just to find something worth saving. was it because of compassion or guilt or shame that I put Ariadne's string in his hands so he could navigate his way out and run for his life. maybe it was because I was so used to the echoes in my head IendeditIendeditIendedit that through the tears, I still managed to smile at the words he ended it.
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40
in the fog of a cold summer, you shivered like a seismograph tremors assaulting your faultlines and i took you in my arms, zipped you into my ribcage to keep you warm - you shivered to the rhythm of my pulse, hot blood exiling the summer chill. from the fog of a cold summer, i took you into my bed, plucked your feathers to keep you with me; made dreamcatchers from your feathers to keep the nightmares from your mind. shivering seismograph, can't fly with bare wings. through the fog of a cold summer, i walked with you, held your hand anchoring you to my side, shackles between us keeping you safe [you can't fly in this fog little seismograph: the clouds will eat you up the fog will wrap around you and dash you against the rocks. oh, you are beautiful, but you won't be when you're bleeding broken on the talus, your bones escaping your skin. blood breeds art but what use is art when you're gone, when you've found your feathers and flown] in the fog of a cold summer, you asked to leave. i need to fly, you said, *i need to become lost in arms of mist and fog. your ****** arms aren't enough, your ****** arms are staining me corporeal.* just keep your arms around me, just remain in my ribs, just close your eyes and let me be your air currents, lifting you above the talus. i can fill all your fault lines, i can ossify all your fissures. i'll fill your hollow bones with my hot blood and exile the summer chill. in the fog of a cold summer, in the wake of a muscle spasm, you fell from the sky and i caught you, plucked your feathers so you could never fall again. little seismograph, shivering to the rhythm of my pulse, i will keep you so warm. i'll keep you safe in my cage.
0
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 5:48 PM UTC
untitled #1
in the fog of a cold summer, you shivered like a seismograph tremors assaulting your faultlines and i took you in my arms, zipped you into my ribcage to keep you warm - you shivered to the rhythm of my pulse, hot blood exiling the summer chill. from the fog of a cold summer, i took you into my bed, plucked your feathers to keep you with me; made dreamcatchers from your feathers to keep the nightmares from your mind. shivering seismograph, can't fly with bare wings. through the fog of a cold summer, i walked with you, held your hand anchoring you to my side, shackles between us keeping you safe [you can't fly in this fog little seismograph: the clouds will eat you up the fog will wrap around you and dash you against the rocks. oh, you are beautiful, but you won't be when you're bleeding broken on the talus, your bones escaping your skin. blood breeds art but what use is art when you're gone, when you've found your feathers and flown] in the fog of a cold summer, you asked to leave. i need to fly, you said, *i need to become lost in arms of mist and fog. your ****** arms aren't enough, your ****** arms are staining me corporeal.* just keep your arms around me, just remain in my ribs, just close your eyes and let me be your air currents, lifting you above the talus. i can fill all your fault lines, i can ossify all your fissures. i'll fill your hollow bones with my hot blood and exile the summer chill. in the fog of a cold summer, in the wake of a muscle spasm, you fell from the sky and i caught you, plucked your feathers so you could never fall again. little seismograph, shivering to the rhythm of my pulse, i will keep you so warm. i'll keep you safe in my cage.
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68
grasping pen and paper and begging for some peace these forked tongue promises leave me begging at your feet i'd have fought the fractures id' have fought the faultlines all i wanted was those words all i wanted was to hear you say be mine
0
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 4:08 AM UTC
triangle
These faultlines we tread: of island loves, we dread. On the crests, lie parked our loyalties: siblings, friends, parents and loves, every love, bounded by sadnesses; Faultlines that carry buried embers under piles of smoke; and then once a while, a paper wheel that was still, revolves in the slow wind - and embers come alive; Suddenly unrequited attractions flame over: O the lure of danger-laden pathways on these faultlines that we dread, yet love to tread. How in dark lights, shadows talk and could-have-been's and how-nice- it-would-have-been's play out, lonely paths, where embers and shadows flutter in the winds, we walk on. The fair wears out, the gathering disperses, and this deja vu cabin flashes out exactly like those years ago and hope emerges out into the renewing fair, with the crest, in that undivided year when the sea hadn't reduced this mass of our loves to these island bits with these faultlines that we dread, yet, love to tread
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Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 12:15 PM UTC
Faultlines
I'm the skeleton in the closet no one wants to claim, Blank stare and empty smile etched into my face By a distracted artist. The air is thrumming with the crackle of madness. The life-blood of cruelty flows out of the mouths of those who refuse to claim me, refusing to meet my eyes. Such disdain! It must be the burden I'll shoulder, Outcast is my name. Having never been possessed by a demon of my own, I am different. Beaten down and battered by demons that reside, In souls other than my own, Created for those not me. No demon has claimed me as their own, though many have drawn my blood by the hands of their hosts. Twin mirrors shimmer in dark, liquid pools they call my eyes, Reflecting back onto everyone the ever-growing spiderweb of sins that cover their suffocating souls. I can trace the faultlines on their skin, As their sorrows seeps through the core of them, And they shudder at my whisper-soft touch, So like the brush of wings. I am the problem for which there is no solution. Lock me behind closed doors and whisper behind my back, Let me fade away from time and memory until there is nothing left; Not an echo of my stuttering heart beat, nor an imprint of my shattering soul. I shall disengage entirely from the whole of the world. Floating in the darkness, alone in the absolute silence, Until the light flares to life and summons me home once more, To the core of the universe.
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May 10, 2012
May 10, 2012 at 3:14 AM UTC
Lock me behind closed doors
Let's have a conversation we've never had before where I dazzle and surprise you and you pin me to the floor and the world falls out of order in a new and perfect way and we wake up on the faultlines of a fascinating day Well I know you have it in you for myself I'm not so sure as my hinges they are rusty and I can't unlock the door We have calcified in comfort we have fossilised in fate and I want to shake the sureness before it gets too late And it's not that I'm not grateful or would rather be alone but we owe it to each other not to cast the world in stone So let's have a conversation we've never had before let's take the wrong road home, love and remind ourselves there's more.
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Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 3:45 AM UTC
Conversation
I never understood what people meant when they said you could get lost in someone, but I swear When you looked at me with those kaleidoscope eyes of yours, containing every colour with tunnel vision straight into the faultlines in my soul I could scarcely remember my own name And in that moment between breaths Looking at each other with the quiet suspense Of a lethal, lingering kiss I don't think I would've wanted to
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May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 6:15 AM UTC
It was an ocean and I have never wanted to drown more
his chest was the ground caving in in a matter of seconds; it was the streets' sudden tremors the wall cracks and chipped rocks. his gaze, hauntingly sad, it was almost inviting. and i was a girl, all white dress and wide eyes not really knowing any better; steps, too careful walks, too slow, tracing the faultlines misplaced on his skin; it was an open field — an open target for the lightning to strike and leave its marks and i was just a girl, looking for poems where they shouldn't be found; on the palm creases, and the curves of his lips. i walk, all tentative tiptoes and a wrong step; falling into each hollow, each crevice, each slit. he was an earthquake, waiting to happen seismic and sudden, taking everything down. and i — a nameless girl, an inkblot for face and limbs a paramour, a secret, all wrapped into one. i — a doorstep kiss, an uncertain touch, a bedpost notch, all wrapped into one. and i — a jamais vu, a face in the crowd, a nameless casualty, all wrapped into one.
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Nov 1, 2019
Nov 1, 2019 at 7:43 AM UTC
casualty
don't blame your mother because she doesn't know what you're in don't blame your mother because she's frustrated that you haven't said more than a few words and it's her weekend off don't blame your mother for slamming your door when she enters for the seventh time today and you're still in bed it's not her fault for the things that you feel and it's not her fault for not being able to understand but it isn't your fault either you've been broken ten ways to Sunday and it is a miracle you still have your limbs you don't have to worry that your extremities are numb and chilled because your heart is doing the best it can your vocal chords need a rest sometimes and it's not your mother's fault for not understanding but it's not yours either
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Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 12:29 PM UTC
Faultlines
It is difficult to understand What separates you and I, Perhaps you reached, but found no hand, There must be more than meets the eye. Deep chasms line the spectrum, Like cliff faced faultlines of distance where there's none, One slight of step, a little momentum, And into an abyss beyond reach of the sun. By nature, we are much the same, Despite the nurtured deception, I refuse the notion that I should shame Still watered ripples of my reflection.
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May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 3:05 PM UTC
Still Watered Ripples
We were of the mountain As far as any flesh can be when flesh is weak and soft And so imperfect in its subtleties. The valley takes no shelter here When we are sand and stone Formed by the world over; we are not our own. You can't fight this finality - I can, But it takes its toll on me as the rivers line my face And I feel the sea and the moon in their dance. The Earth adjusts itself to this And I understand what it means; That creators are destroyers of the in-betweens. I see no violent turn in the paths we take, Just the gentle shift that time will make.
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Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:21 AM UTC
Faultlines
When love comes around again I want to really make it last And I resolve inside that I won't make the same mistakes And spoil my new happiness with the faultlines of the past Being hurt by love at any time is just to hard to mention But experience has taught me well and when the chance comes Around again, my changes will be known for that's my intention And at last, I'll find a new beginning with someone I can trust And hold out my heart like a cup To let my new love fill it up
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Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 6:49 PM UTC
When I Give My Love Again By Victor Tripp
you look at me like i am sunset slipping away from your fingers like silk and satin while my fingers tremble and quake and ache to be so far away you are still looking at me my fingers curl into fists crushing petals that are never there don't look at me i know i left the flowers to rot and wilt among dusty windows and picture frames three nights ago i know you wanted the roses next to the bed or between us somewhere to remind me of things you only say when your arms become shore and i cannot breathe they were such pretty little things pinks and reds and dawn and dusk did you know? i cradled your roses to my chest until the scent of flowers and you and sweet and kindness and hope and love became suffocation and memory of everything you poured into my thirsty hands that i did not deserve everything i watched rain down my feet through the faultlines cracking along my palms the way your gentle fingers would whisper against mine as you fell asleep with your head cradling mine and forever still on your lips i look back at you and my fingers are only my own again and they were such pretty little things but i am only nothing
0
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 6:04 AM UTC
nothing II