"gelatin" poems
in a taut black dress
you brush by me
you are
dark summer fruit simmering hot
a sopping estuary
i gather you into me
you cascade like an undulating cat
giggles like trembling gelatin
cherry kiss lips
agile muscle shifting
pleating like soft furs
against my thunderous chest
your tremulous tongue rupturing
like spiced chrysanthemums from heaven
i inhale your lavender breath
your saliva melts stormy mouth up-leaping
i eat your soul
and paradise ********
licking honey rainbows
filling my mouth a thousand times
and a thousand more
its never enough when some one has your heart
suffocate me in your drooling mouth
your body is my aviary
and hot house of man eating plants
i run to your teeth
beautiful cleavers gleaming
shivering with excitement
from your dragging bites
my blood languishing at your feet
have no regard for me
eat my love
i live to be swallowed by you
i hold you through the night
all dire raptures
dark in mystic paradise
tangled in your hair
may mourning never find us
torrid scorched from flames infernal
black candles uncrossing pasts
devils **** your adoring toy
kisses never ceasing
hot weather nostrils steaming
your flexed body writhes
a royal contortion
your heart cleaving
so that i may like a sun
consume your darkest edges
bitter chocolate so sweet
to fill griefs mouth with ecstasy
my heart aches like a siren of echoes
calling to you
shaking your gates down
you are a titanic gravity
and i'm forever tumbling
like eternal burning ashes through cobalt night
it is a steep decent into heavens arms
as i crumble
all smashing diamonds
and hissing flames
into open wounds weeping glitter
your chin jutting
throat stretched
while pulling the roots of your hair
exposing arteries pulsing
stuffing myself on your marrow
you plume like a volcanic moon
showering me with spooling stars
and butter **** kisses
ill turn you into my glistening little *****
all swollen tears for more
rituals of adoration
kisses like monsoon rains
i look up at your supple form
your haunches my temple
worshiping you
smothered in heavens jaws
you cascading pantie-less
in a taut black dress
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC
I watch my reflection in the mirror
with my pale blue eyes
watching my lifeless stature in the dark
bones made out of gelatin
and my heart out of fragile glass
that breaks everytime i see myself
My fingertops softly touch my face
Tears keep coming faster
till my waterlines are overflowing
My nails grow sharper
and my fingers cramp
digging holes under my eyes
I want to shatter my bones
And burn my skin to ashes
I want to rip the hair from my scalp
as well as all the pages
filled with frustration
scratching and screaming
I have to be pretty
but the need for it grows
as well as the demons inside my soul
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 8:14 PM UTC
the first time i saw a ****
i didn't know she was my sweetheart,
and i didn't understand her
not like feet or arms
which i understood immediately
but **** grew on me
like ivy over bricks
in time **** ate my mind
and i was haunted by her
perfume
then i suffered
a severe case of **** on the brain
of which there is no cure but death
unless of course
there are ***** in the afterlife
the ****
such a tender
slit that oozes love like gelatin
a veiled curving vulnerability
it's secret poorly hidden
for easy discovery
but still,
i didn't understand women
the holders of this sacred chalice
until the great epiphany
and i realized
that the woman's heart is a **** too
a silky slit
the marrow of her soul
waiting to be opened and brimming
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 3:43 PM UTC
I didn't know anything
you so suddenly left
never even getting
another chance to speak
I wanted to hear your laugh
but instead I sit and cry
wishing I could see you
waiting for the emptiness
to just go away
Like a leaf blowing
no one hears its cry
it is just a simple
lackluster leaf
Holding hands
now that's a feeling
it is warm and always new
the sensation and memory
It remains the same
yet the feeling changes
the swirling, warm feeling
it never feels out of place
I remember little
but have some vivid
very long lasting memories
you were so nice
Summer breezes and fireflies
whistling and watching
stars appear in our eyes
as we gaze into the campfire
I remember the taste of mint
the laughs and gelatin snacks
movies with each other
and especially, holding hands.
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 3:24 PM UTC
rolling in the rosy dish of my tongue
it returns in my mouth to
its most basic elements
a primordial alabaster foam
of corn syrup and gelatin
and unpronounceable would-rather-not-knows
i think: marshmallows
are the juxtaposition to my quaker pallet
microwave tap water&Fry;'s Cocoa
awash and dissolve
my saccharine oral fixation
in jealous slurps of heat
that radiate down
down down
heat, you see-
(as a sakura flush
blossoms 'cross the
pale of my throat)
-has always been the key
here's a secret:
in solitude i
i'm a homunculous girl
all lips and all hands
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 7:46 PM UTC
i.
You say
I look like a twig
as if I should be ashamed
to be compared to a strong tree.
ii.
You hold my gelatin arm,
letting it hang,
laughing
that I am all skin and bones,
but aren't you, too?
iii.
You think I should come
with a caution label
explaining how to properly hold something
as breakable and fragile as glass.
iv.
You slink your arm around my waist,
dancing your fingertips over my protruding hip bones,
confessing it feels like it doesn't belong.
Why isn't it beautiful
a part of my vessel isn't
hidden?
v.
You are aghast when my ribcage
slightly shows, stretching my masked skin.
Why are you horrified
to see the very structure
protecting the ***** I love you with?
vi.
Twice the portions,
twice
the helping.
Will I always have to prove
I am anything, but
empty?
vii.
Last time I checked,
you were a skeleton, too.
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 2:58 PM UTC
tight are the waxers
with gelatin scrub
their alcove smiles paired
on a check-board slate
dive jackets
and coveralls
mark the blue persuaders
stuffed lockers
and lattice straps
for a cold
pilgrim's stare
cork boots
and poly rot
rest in the C block
rank and file
mask a heavily
worn charade
windows wide
and curtains
thread bare
greasers
and **** rats
pardoned
on principle
chain link and
tether held
firm in the grasp
bead bites and
castle tops
slip in the **** steam
chants and speakers
blast from the back wall
elements stacked wide
for tainted leaners
strummers and pickers
held high on the jimmy jack
a chilled base breeze
at the ****** hole
rogues and hatters
stir at the mixer
an imitation face
closing in on the feast
maiden hands clasp
hard at the inseam
scuffed heals shuffle
on the peripheral scene
a cloaked man scurries
(chilled in his double sock)
moonshine
and mickeys
turned up in the jar
light streams blind
the paranoid eyes
laggards peeled
from the wretched
framework
veneer shattered
on a point strip groove
an overwhelming trauma
from slaughter
harbor
Apr 18, 2019
Apr 18, 2019 at 3:16 PM UTC
I am
the highway tunnels drilled in your gums
from when your baby teeth plucked themselves out.
I am
the **** rotting on the bed,
whose gelatin you flayed off with your rusted spoon.
I am
the accused with his bounty price
plastered across the billboard sign.
I am
the dying fetus
jutting her head outside the womb.
I am these tributaries — these waves that thirst — which, at first glance, don’t connect. In time, they will prove
that humanity has claimed territory in them.
I am the mouth, drooling forth my mountain water.
This larger lake! I shall never see beyond it.
I am not the fifth dimension, where the sky hangs its hook.
So what?
I have its might. I am the colonizer in its territory,
and I claim it.
Apr 18, 2021
Apr 18, 2021 at 5:18 PM UTC
Chocolate colored Toms, Cool Blue and Navy, too,
North Face jacket, give me some individuality
I wanna feel ethereal; violently, annoyingly
happy. But the sky is as black as lonely cancer
without a soul mate; I know what it's like
to kiss as you erase her.
Hauntingly, melancholic instances ingrained
into my gelatin mind and
stayed.
And the smolder
from the brand on my shoulder
frayed.
I wish I could alter my reflection,
but the mirror I've bought,
somebody else
made.
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 2:21 AM UTC
His h a n d s were so beautiful
Rough, like a first-time bikecrash
Manly, bruised, ragged cuticles
Curiously wandering trough
this undressed f o r e s t
Exploring every part with soft touch
Tryna reach for the appletree
Craving for that fresh taste
When he's giving me h e a d
on the unmade bed
Slowly s i n k i n g
further and further into his love
It h e a t s me up
My bones become gelatin
His breath becomes my o x y g e n
Our heartbeat becomes a melody
His maddening eyes watching me ***
Goosebumps appear all over my skin
This feeling is so confusing and ineffable
Yet so e u p h o r i c and intense
it can't be explained
We're two lights burning on one candle
Together, we melt
into this burning desire
for e a c h o t h e r.
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC
You've got a palpable penchant for being a legend
And guilt will start planning my grave
Rock n roll
An article to fit the cover and first page
You want a ****** poster already
Battered comedians wearing stripper glitter,
marching to an imagined white powder cathedral
You wanted the life
You wanted fame for a wife
A seedy hotel managed by mold and off brand gelatin
Shut the **** up
Instability is what the limelight is selling
Shut the **** up and save me
Behind social media
The secrets no one knows
The love that's shared by the hands that daddy issues uphold
The wreck-less sacrifices of greedy needs
Please hide our endless affection from a callous coliseum consumed public and save me
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 1:58 AM UTC
Blink slow,
let your cold winds blow,
calm your breathing,
cease your moving,
you're touching the silicone sadness.
We're rushing and running,
forever tumbling,
the human race is dying,
Forever lying, never trying.
Touch, touch the silicone sadness.
But don't sink into it,
Don't let it freeze you,
Keep you,
infinitely inside you.
Fight until your dying breath,
relentless to the very end,
Never stopping, sometimes slowing,
but move, MOVE!
Don't let yourself taste the end.
Our silly silicone sadness,
we can halt, forever speeding cars,
never gelatin.
Have you tasted it?
The sadness?
Have you watched the word slow?
Felt the coldness seep beneath your skin?
their eyes all turn away?
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 10:11 PM UTC
paradoxes under tables
walled open doors
back alleys, woodwork streets
all busy, all morose
rat podium picture maze
my arms are gelatin
affixed in spares
left to be eaten
windows with glare
the arches of Rome
panels of glass
the musical sheets
orchestration aligned
trumpets on my right
tubas on my left
the open door
let the rats in
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 9:29 AM UTC
We agreed it was the
********** of life searching
on our hands and knees
as meteors burnt up
in the atmosphere
discovering new through
burnt ashes and falling
in love too fast while
the child in us screams
where's the fresh cement
of unbeaten path? Silly
scowls sit with little lips.
Abduction he swore! They
probed picked his brain .
Meanings change when the lights
start to flash
and your senses are hollow
gelatin mix. Remembers not how
they got to be but
where it used to go
He said purgatory got him here
because he told them he
didn't want to wait.
Moses had to wait for
thirty years and millions
of lives. His naked ghost,
hair whiter, than artificial
light when he said
“it was in the naked catacomb
when the walls fully dressed, in purple's
nobility, while not forgetting to grab all
the beggars' begging.
the leak was quick not slow
and the air pumped itself.
Athena looked down and cried at
the misery. She pleaded for no flood, she
couldn’t persuade God.
Crumbling steal and birds of fire
brought upon the sand
that got stuck in the mouths. Grains from
different dunes all on one spoon
Does not mix all to well just like
how Noah placed the Lions
beside the Zebras in an empty place.
Mayans mark their skies as
Cats will their lives. They don't worry until
they're down to one, down to one
grain of sanded rice that's supposed to
feed the entire world but won't suffice until
someone sees at last.
Better too late than never, as they'll often say.”
Jun 19, 2012
Jun 19, 2012 at 1:33 PM UTC
One pill, two pill
Orange pill, blue pill
White beads, pressed ecstasy and some ****
Gluttony, greed,
My real sin is debauchery.
Gram of this, gram of that
marred my memories, myelin mortuary.
Skin, bones, but no fat
I'll eat gelatin capsules that can only subtract.
Artificial enthusiasm in Walgreens jars.
Decadence lost opulence to tolerance of bars.
Still I solicit any alter:
self-indulgence for Bacchanalian revival.
Hedonism's propensity,
mankind's perpetual denial-
but not for I,
the lotus eater
with the omniscient third-eye.
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 2:18 PM UTC
Feet. Gnarled, scabbed and bent at the bone. Where‘s the beauty? I look at my toenails, my arms around my knees, as tears roll down and hit the sidewalk. The splash is exciting, and a thousand images come to mind.
I stand as I take in everything around me, savoring each breath, watching the colors enter my mouth.
The wind. It’s colorful here. Rolling rainbows of blues and greens and reds caress the buildings around me. It’s astounding when it blows.
Last week, the sun exploded into a thousand little ***** of light and they float around me now, serene and inert. Only when I walk do those in my path slowly twirl out of my way.
Slowly, slowly. As if they are moving through gelatin, as if they are slightly begrudged that I‘m counteracting their inertia.
I know that this is beauty. It is beauty that is this place. I would give up every element comprising my being to have this beauty with me when I leave, but I know I can’t overstay my welcome.
I place my foot onto a step behind me and I walk up. There is a balcony above me where I bring my camera. I sit on this ledge and I let my feet hang over and I try to capture everything this beauty is.
But it can’t be done. I have tried so many times to take this place, to put it in my pocket. But it can’t be done. No matter how many times I try, or how many ways I turn my camera, I can’t capture it.
I set the camera down after a couple minutes and I look to my left. A little ball of sun is floating beside my head. I stick a finger out to poke it and, as if by a magnetic field, it slowly pushes itself back when I am but a mere inch away. I try again, and fail. I put both hands out, cupping, as if to net it. I miss, and we play this game for a while.
But the suspense goes nowhere, and the ball of sun finally anticlimactically slips a few feet away. Disappointed, I stand up and walk slowly down the steps, my hand on the edge of the wall next to me.
The suns begin to lose their brightness, and I know it is time for me to go. I’m almost sad, knowing that I won’t see beauty like this until the next time I am able to return here.
Almost. This place is so great, so majestic, I can’t help but leave with a sense of pride, knowing I am privileged enough to come here.
With a final look back, I take in the glow of the setting ***** of sun against the background of the wind. I hesitate at the bridge, to put my hair back up into a ponytail. I slip back into my sneakers and I put on my lip gloss. I’m ready to go back to the side of the world from which I came.
I have to catch my breath as I prepare myself for the world I’m returning to. I breathe in deeply, and I look down, at my feet. Gnarled, scabbed, and bent at the bone. Where’s the beauty?
I take a reluctant, mournful step onto the bridge
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 10:52 PM UTC
I lain in a half-sleep, hearing my grandmother's voice.
When she died, I was jobless,
sleeping on her couch,
and a few months out of the ward.
My mental instability helped me lose friendships, love, and my identity.
I used to hope death would touch me
and I did not know why I wanted it to.
Death instead touched her,
drifting like a gas, underneath her door,
into her lungs, erasing consciousness
like lavender being blown by the wind,
into marked a detergent bottle.
I lain in a half-sleep, hearing my grandmother's voice.
A blue shock spread throughout me,
like the ocean swallowing animals
and forcing them to adapt.
I began drowning in water that looked like gas station slushee,
my ribcage hugging frantic gelatin organs,
beating alongside the spindle of time.
I lain in a half-sleep, hearing my grandmother's voice.
My carcass became Sun-kissed from the burning of change --
my grandmother died before I could succeed:
my grandmother died before she could see me live.
I crawl through the coarse, wheat-dyed sand,
hoping the blood I trail can be measured in her love.
I hope to make her proud, to learn to work hard,
then harder and harder and harder.
To become fully healthy,
to become what she stayed by my side for.
One of the few.
I lain in a half-sleep, hearing my grandmother's voice.
She said she was proud of me.
It probably was me and not her,
but at least someone is proud.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 2:05 AM UTC
Corroding off in wreckless control
Repeated lines stretching infinitely in ambiguity
Sharp muscle relaxant mistakes
As we career off the road
Into a ravenous singularity
We are unforgiving, cynical yet synthetically joyous
Quick to pardon
Whipped with a gold leash
Delicate, leaves, Celtic music
Rubik's cubes in our throats
We're ready to let love in, willing
Nova tech, drunk masks and indication
Indignation, we clutch, we fail
Partial to conditions
Stones out of focus
Accelerate
Engines bleed borders
You are the free way
Impotent with quartz remnants
Ruins to our fantasy
You hide history
Covered in my burrow
Braking until necks break & bags burst
Powdered hair, liquid lips
Let's drive home
Go beyond the limit
Break each others bones
And crush our entities
Suffocate on suffixes
Her explanation acquits the doubt
As we appear closer than we may actually be
Industrial stacks stretch towards invisibility
Letting go of their concentrate
Gelatin mind
levitate into connection
Cups turned upside down
Entrapping ego in near vacuum
Aqua ducts bouncing off feline eyes
2 & a 4
Perfect air in a foreign atmosphere
Spinned on axis, ways to conduct
Your supply
Secede madness
Eternal order
Lungs sharply inhale with uncertainty
Hydroplaning your attempts at adultery
Decision was never your thing
Unmoving at every turn
Passion with objects
Reactions flicker between humility
It gives gifts
Your skin melts to the touch
Chocolate in magma
Molten sound deafens drench
Jealous mess, dividend
Hugging and dripping black with stability
Back, holy scripture written with integration
Sealed with treachery, acetate photography
Capturing clear innocence
Boredom and sinfulness
Spiked militant
Pencil drawn neuroses, veil
Bow down to schematics, we're radar
Sonar structure solar
It's all part of the process
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ'✿⊱╮
Silken buttermilk pudding
kissed by vanilla
With gelatin, it stands firm
and gently wobbles
Adorn berry sauce
Gems of fruit
Slick!
╰⊰✿⊱╮
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
I think it’s far past the time,
that I go and change my full name.
It’s not that I’ve committed a crime,
It’s just I’m done playing this game.
It’s a waste of my time and energy,
and I’ve become aware there’s a closet in my skeleton,
it’s moved from where it’s meant to be,
I guess it’s not just my will power that’s made of gelatin.
I took a power drill to my right temple,
to create a hole and install a switch.
To erase my thoughts I ignored the detrimental,
but every memory slips it’s way through the stitch.
Sometimes it’s not the change you want,
but maybe it’s the change that you need.
Don’t hide your wounds, they’re battle scars you should flaunt,
and praise that you still have the ability to bleed.
But I’m a hypocrite of the worst kind,
as I encourage others to embrace the pain.
My worst enemy is my own mind,
and I’m plotting havoc against my brain.
I’d do anything for a clean slate,
I’d give it all up to once hit “reset”
The best I can do right now is just wait,
and hope one day I can be blessed to forget.
I tried to go back home but the doors are all locked,
and someone’s in my parking space.
There’s a sea of debris on the roads that I once walked,
my existence in my own home has been fully erased.
It’s almost so tragic that it’s comedic,
that the only two things I want slipped through my grasp.
A concept is invisible, so how do you beat it?
If you never held it how do you reclasp?
But I’m a hypocrite of the worst kind,
as I encourage others to embrace the pain.
I’m tired of being tied up within this bind,
like a cartoon character on the tracks awaiting an oncoming train.
I’d do anything for a clean slate,
I’d give it all up to once hit “reset”
Am I starving even though I cleared my plate?
Am I swimming in riches while drowning in debt?
Eternal sunshine of a spotless mind,
speaks more to my state, praying to become blind.
Atleast I wouldn’t long and yearn,
for the spot where I once stood,
‘cause how can you ever return
when you know how it used to be good?
And I raised her up on a pedestal so high,
that her fingers could brush the heavens.
She replaced the sun and became the sky,
and I wished for her at all eleven-eleven’s.
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 5:01 PM UTC
Slugging outside of this imploding cube
Instantly, the air is contaminated,
And only momentarily, will I pollute the entire room,
My jangly displeasure consolidated.
I come in solely as an interior
Burying my face in my cuffs.
You look down at me as I am inferior,
Smiling, with your hands full of ashes and dust,
Of all that remains from our cremated hearts.
Your swift steps reverberates the dilapidated tiled floors
Like the hums of wishes through laboured breathing,
Like the creaking in my head from the pre-vocalizing doors.
Sinking into the essence of my sadness,
Journeying back and forth and back again.
Uncomfortably, through these conditioned doors I crawl,
To seek and assemble words,
To position them like Velcro on the polysyllabic cerebrum walls.
That will shape the size of my cuts and bruises
In undeniable places,
As a mouthful begins to cascade and fall.
Sinking in my invertebrate state,
My physical texture of life
Salutes me once again.
Of the stem of creation,
And unpleasant satisfaction,
Inside my gelatin head.
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
You make my poetry crumble
Like a building set for demolition.
I want to write beautiful things,
But when I gaze upon you
My mind draws a blank.
I don't understand it really;
We are miles away from each other,
Yet you make my legs restless
And my knees as weak as gelatin.
Your icy blue eyes peer into
My soul until I can't help but melt-
I am in too deep for comfort.
I am sinking fast in the quicksand
Of your sweetly smooth words.
I am fighting off my feelings left and right
But nothing will stop you from knocking
Down the walls I have worked so hard to build up.
I want to tell you I love you like you have
Time and time again. But alas I cannot,
Because I don't want to be hurt or worse-
Hurt you.
It's not fair that you pull at my heart strings
Like you do because I have nothing in rebuttal.
Everytime I try my jaw locks up,
My lips seal tightly shut,
And my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth
Like it does when I eat peanut butter too fast.
I try to put my feelings into poetry
But even then the message comes out wrong.
I give up!
I am just a twitterpated poetress
Who's penmanship is less than sub par...
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 12:26 AM UTC
There's a jungle silence tonight.
The angry orange sun is low in the sky
Quivering in the gelatin air, sluggishly setting.
Cars rattle on the pavement like half-mad animals
And I hang limply to the steering wheel, drawing slow breaths,
Listening for a sound of thunder in the reverberating quiet.
There is nothing but the distant whine of sirens,
And the backwards static of the radio.
Only a red crescent of the sun remains,
Pierced on a church steeple and sinking slowly.
Aug 15, 2010
Aug 15, 2010 at 9:05 AM UTC
Acid leaks from my fingers
and you watch it with glee!
as time fragments and loops
repeat themselves redundantly.
My logic knows all and my shoes
have left my feet in search of a
robo-walk to maximize the pleasure.
I move in angles- trip trip trip----
stutter
All energy flows throught this very vessel
no need for nourishment, this ***** flies
backwards. Marching in grotesque lines
heading nowhere in particular. Faces
lose recognition and I die. die. die again.
My eyes are open? There is no difference.
All I see is a spiral tunnel filled with the
gruesome buzzing of infinite electric flies
and shades of nightmare.
Sound, words, fall short. I'm in a box
at a distance. Can't reach to decide whether
I'm sitting standing speaking. It tumbles out and splats
to the sticky purple mass
spittled like the sides of my brain
which pulse in a threat to implode
Waking dreams and living death
no borders in this country
a kaleidoscope of tulips, twisting strands
of gelatin, columns of panic,
and a glitch in the night.
A quick scream soon stifled.
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 5:42 PM UTC
When our bones rub softly,
I can take my teeth out and
shine them like skin cutters.
A yellow-bird dress you wear;
the same matchbox socks
that you wouldn't bother.
Sometimes, all the time, I
shiver in the gelatin lake
and what a faux-shake
it would only take
to make you care.
Baby, maybe, you
could love your child
like the sultry sandman;
place them on pinkish pillows,
and pretend your stories are
as real as your lashes.
And what a lamb,
kneeling in the Irish grass,
drinking all that is in her glass,
before breaking it over a wet stone,
and holding it to her throat, singing,
"I've always been surrounded, but
have always felt alone."
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 12:02 AM UTC