"inners" poems
My, oh my
Do I find myself facing a faceless giant
swinging his gigantic arms
bringing about his colossal hands together
creating a thunderous clap
His skin thicker than the crusts of the earth
with a voice that booms from the corners of the skies
My, Oh my
Do I find myself stunned with fear
as it puts its foot down
shaking the ground beneath the soles of my feet
How do I slay a giant such as he?
He strikes me through my heart
melting the inners of my mind
shattering the bones beneath my skin
eating away whats left of me.
How?
I've got no sword left in my hand
my armor has crumbled
turned into dust
my spirit barely alive!
I
am
Weak!
unprepared!
and
unequipped!
A soldier in shame!
A warrior who has lost
all who he is!
My, Oh my
Do I find myself crying in silence
with no tears left to shed
with rage that boils inside
of my chest
thinking that maybe
this is it for me.
My, Oh my
Do these shadows fall
upon me.
Opening up scars that have healed
Sinking me deeper and deeper
down the cracks of the earthly soils
swallowing me
as I try to find myself
beneath the ocean of pain.
My, Oh my
Do I find myself bleeding
hurting, and
screaming in silence
My, Oh my!
this giant gloats about
as he strikes me down
as he strips away every bit of my courage, and strength
Oh, he gloats, and gloats
and gloats
-----
But My, Oh my!
My, Oh my!
Do I still find myself getting back up
every time I'm struck down
beaten up
buried beneath the ground
My, Oh my!
Do I say to you my giant,
"You strike me down a thousand times; I get back up
a thousand and one times!"
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 8:46 AM UTC
The truth is, I’m not really sure who I am. She told us to draw ourselves and then to draw our souls; so I drew my face scratched and uneven, just as I’ve always seen it, and frowned at the result both in the mirror and on the paper. The only soul I’ve ever really known was the one that shone through the strokes of the keys I punched, the scrawling of ink on paper in mismatched arrays of awkward thoughts, disorientated and unorganized, shaded different spews of emotion and rearranged through the lens of ever last viewer’s eye. Even so, this soul that is composed of words that defined me painted a picture vivid in its contrast, though blurry from both afar and close enough to squint, no details able to be made out. These words that have wrapped around my soul rubbed raw from the time my skin first flinched at the cool March air cannot be deciphered by their author, though I know somehow that their letters flowing into one another say more than any curve of my face ever could. These words are black and white, two extremes crafted in the pallet of the Universe’s toolshed, and perhaps that’s exactly what I am. Black or white. I’m dark and lost and scrounging for some rusting wall or tree branch to cling to as to ensure the shimmering waves, onyx and charcoal in their nature with the flow of blood in its spine, do not flood into my mouth at a rate in which is too quick to balance myself upon them, or, I’m white, drifting snow from a cloud scraping the vast expanse of brilliant blue gazing as a sky above all the world, pure, innocent, unscathed with the potential for creation in vibrancies yet unknown, or to be ripped to bits, scattered amongst piles of cream and autumn leaves drained of their color beneath months of shivering frost. And so, perhaps any physical representation of my being would be all wrong, because that’s not what I am. Myself, my soul, it resides in the murky depths of heights I’ve yet to discover, tethered endlessly and uncertain among the caverns of my inners, pink and mushy, stirred and ****** untouched from the harsh light of a world encased in brevity.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 8:20 PM UTC
It is still blurry,
The times you held me helplessly. Holding this flesh that blinked with desperation. The glasses of problems brought to bed. Complete care with a side of beauty. Electric fingertips flowing along my sides. Stunning the flow in these veins.
It is still blurry,
The words that pressed off your tongue. Words that finished sleep and solid thought. The same mouth that has changed lives, comforted family, cursed like a sailor. Giving strength to simply continue. Moving mountains, depending on your approach. Making mornings sunlit on cloudy days. Your sunlight showed this life dissipated darkness.
It is still blurry,
Angst and tension between bones. The tension that can't be resisted nor denied. Giving me the strength transverse miles each way, just to sleep next to your breath. Open this heart, cuddle with its inners. Cut this tension with your actions knives.
It is still blurry,
The elation you delivered to my doorstep. Served purpose in my life. Giving me a chance to release all those dusty window sills in the attic. I complied an archives of you in my senses. The way you gave that heart of yours.
It is still blurry,
The times you settled the fears resting on your ancient dresser. Yeah the one you brag about. The one that held our water during rest, held our alarms to begin another day, and even our books of education shared. We have split these lives in so many directions. All ending in the same bed. Closer than my skin is to its bones. We were one in that bed. One after a life lived in every direction.
It is still blurry,
Your purpose. Actions and words in separate realms. All it would have took was a phone call. You insisted the benefits. Leaving us in seperate beds, different countries, different mind sets. Why not just enjoy love. Love lost in a storm of self discovery.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
I walk this dismal dark and damp dungeon
Long dark the phantom am i;
Strolling I now take icy breaths;
Mystery lies within my realm;
Far faint foot echoes announce my impending doom
I embark upon my midnight
Echoeing chamber room
It's chains that puppeted victims that had
Screamed for their end and at last,
I had giggled laughed and touched their quivering chest
And felt their fading warmth
Then into oblivion casted they were by me
This dark stone its chilling floor
Where rodents squeek and scurry about,
My only pets and friends I know
Suddenly I hear as HEAVY VOICES of my approaching DOOM
POUNDING FISTS and swinging logs against my dungeon door and room
I curse the empending light by
Their torches casting beams
Bound from hell and its slithering horrid beam fingers
Under my dungeon door
I curse my end by angered pounding fists
Hell bound to see my end to be
What cursed blackened night just lies
A distant short,
A breathless world my oblivian beckons me by hounds
Of DOOM,
My parts be scattered h e l t e r s k e l t e r
My inners thrown upon old wooden beams above
Soon i will leave this loveless world i made,
i foretell and kiss only an empty space goodbye,
Waiting first ****** deep within my flesh to be
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC
Regular as clockwork
the spotters gather there
binoculars and notebooks
as up the track they stare
assembled on the platform
with all the day to spare
they put the world to rights
and wait without a care
clad in finest anorak
tweed caps are in this year
their fleecy inners covering
heads once thick with hair
Every day I see them
sometimes just a pair
shuffling on the concrete
sometimes with a chair
Pensions less than peanuts
Blame young Tony Blair
But everything forgotten
at sight of one thats rare
Life is breathed to tired legs
nostrils start to flare
sweaty palms note hastily
with eager thank you prayer
And oh the day the Queen came
They stood in open air
and cheered to see that engine
sweep in with royal flare
I'll not be hear to watch you
From comfy office chair
From now on I'll be missing
But I know you'll still be there
Jan 24, 2010
Jan 24, 2010 at 9:50 PM UTC
it is not butterflies you placed in my tummy,
but large ferocious birds,
with wingspans fluttering against the inners of my
lungs,
beaks prodding my intestine,
their necks snarling with my esophagus.
their caws pulsate in and out my pores,
and these birds want to fly, fly, fly
towards you.
but i bite with anxious molars, and their blood tastes like
cranberries.
choking up red soaked feathers,
i wonder if you have birds
too.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC
i’m not getting teased, cause i’m a hooligan
you see i remember getting teased by all the families
and it drove me pretty mad, i hated it,
and the only way to rid this evil teasing
is to be evilly myself, by saying, you are still
a family person and i am a hooligan
and if you don’t stop teasing me, i will slit your throat
you see you are a loser, a total and utter loser
i told them, i will come and grab you, and grab the other teasing young dudes
and then i say, i will say, i am a hooligan and you are a family person
my mate and i are planning to grab you
and throw you in the bin, and i will go ha ha ha ha
you have been trapped by us hooligans
you are going to suffer for teasing me, cool boy
i am going to show you, if you tease me, i will **** you
and get rid of your corpse, in the sea
make your body all itchy, and us hooligans
will tie you teasing boys up and i will say ha ha ha
you see you will never escape from me, ever
you say i am shy, but if you keep calling me shy, i will come
and tie you up and say i am a hooligan and i will **** you, right now
and then i will sit down and play cool for you, because you are a family person
and i am a hooligan and i will **** you and play cool for you and every family person on earth
and when any teaser teases me i will go ha ha ha and lay a knife right to their head
you see i will **** the guy who nicked my lunch because he treated me like a queer different person
and as soon as i met my mate, i kept myself hidden with the hooligans ready to pune on him
saying,you are going to die, you are going to die, because i am a hooligan and you are a family person
and you are getting played cool for, with your crazy trying to be a young dude
and i will sit there saying ha ha ha, you family people are going to be a part of my little gang
where i will play cool for you and terrorise you
you see you will never escape from me, you cool boy, you will n ever escape from me anymore cool boy
i will throw cricket stumps on you and you will be scared of me, you little cool boy
i will go out and have some fun, putting you cool boys into the lockup and i will feed you dead rats and spiders
and if the spider bites your inners, i will yell ha ha ha ha saying i am the hooligan, keeping the family people under wraps
and i will attempt to **** you all if you don’t fucken leave me alone, ********
you see i am getting sick of you, teasing me, and every time i touch you you go crazy
but i expect that from a family person such as yourself
i will **** you, i will **** you i will **** you, you will be dead from us, forever
and in 3 weeks all the family people are dead and us hooligans are playing cool for future family people
to make sure the cool boys who tease don’t exist anymore
i said, i am not getting teased, i am a hooligan
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
if you take a knife to my skin
it will cut it
my layers of protection are not strong enough to ward off that edge
if you keep pressing
blood will pool around the slit
and maybe even splash if you cut the right spot
if you decide to twist
my skin will twist with you
until it tears from the tension and you see my inners
if you take the knife out
you will see me bleeding
and the blood will be red
if you put your eyeball close enough
you will see a fountain
of blue purple and red
if i think your eyeball is close enough
i will squeeze my skin
and hope that my little blood fountain splashes your veiny white globe
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 4:06 AM UTC
Part I
My body never prepared to run out of air
celebrate it?
I said Send.
I said it again and again. Send.
the world's loneliest flipping machine
withering from your obtusity.
I'm sclerotic.
Yes, yes that's it.
I want to stir you
strike you into soup.
I'll observe the dictionary,
every word will flow from me to you.
Flip, flip off the diver's board,
Blank and Blank by the shore
Color it in, out, up, down
I'm sclerotic.
Remember this, need this
counting people all in pairs:
I saw everything through sixteen vision,
bleary, misted with vanilla yous.
Soft skinned, little girls, hot and milds between their teeth
I don't hunt but I could.
Autumnal again and I'm just repetition
speaking of repressed rage.
Let us analyze the handwriting of every
colleague, drop out, ghost buster,
Coffee house inspired.
I'm sclerotic.
I'm walking through the forest and
you're not there.
Part II
I write because I'll die
I die, I die, I diee.
It's been too long since I went swinging
Missing my pour of moon to the tip top
of my new ceramic mugs.
It's all up for traps
the reindeer, the telltales, the chlorine.
Hyperextended among the cruel cats, where are the cool cats?
REVERSE back to nail polish
I got manicures as a little girl
Staring at my hair now
every shaved bit on my leg is its own waterfall. Hah.
I cry for my beauty
I was told I was wrong with
highlighters, colored ads,
illuminated in the eyes of old dogs.
Take a gulp,
I did and I walked
for every moment I regretted.
I walked.
Childish foolish acts, crimeful commitments.
I said Send. Send.
She said you might not like me but to never fret
you love me.
I'm walking in a tunnel
(Where's the light?)
and you're not there.
Part III
This is the beginning
of a low-budget film, black and white
this part is when the audience yells
"Someone fall in love already!"
I think there is something truly remarkable about me
(and you)
and the boy who cried wolf and
probably other people
too
I don't want my words to dissipate or fall
into space
disappear in the inners of the web.
I want them to creep in through the crevices
speak to the many as they
walk and see and notice.
I find a strange comfort in swinging at night in
an empty park
and a intriguing mystery the first time someone sighs my name.
I'm swinging in the park and
you're not there.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
Ive been drinking with anybody,
sinning at every party,
bingin forgetting my limits at every opri-
tuinity,
you and me, are soon to be,
like noon to 3,
seducing me,
exclusively,
inducing the,
muse in me,
ya lookin at my soul,
what your eyes behold,
is one half of the globe,
and the other half must be gold,
I wonder after you go,
in your immaculate scull,
if your thinkin of me when dreaming of being with someone fabulous yo,
your figure, shivers my inners,
i wish ya'd get to my dinners,
so I could extend the time with ya so ya into me missis,
your allure is an attraction I relapse in,
and my demure is extracted with interaction,
I know fa sure satisfaction will be in action,
Whenever we explore a fraction of this passion.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 10:21 AM UTC
My grandpa who eats steamed sweet potatoes on foothills textured in green rice patties
dreamt up a tall brick house with a black iron gate
barbwires sprung around the tips of the entrance to keep out thieves
right now he wonders how long he can keep fibbing to my mother—
their rotten hut at the end of the massive foothill, not fleeting
monsoons come early, swells the ground till it gave
a landslide takes four people and a child
that day, red stars hung above Tiananmen square gates
grounded bones came in sacks, white cement hauled by green skin trucks
My grandpa who loves sweet potatoes constructs an ivory wall.
after the revolution, the sun peeks out in montages
peering through the smoke
gunpowder stuck to the tank tire roads
black heads roll off yellow tar dirt into a pit
My grandpa gives his best friend one thousand yuan—
visas for my mother and grandma,
His best friend disappears,
writes my grandpa
an apology and, leaves him a large white sack of uncooked sweet potatoes
light tan, severs in half and plops down on the lumpy cutting board,
dusty orange inners, grandpa tosses them in the boiling water
and later, while gnawing down,
he pretends they are oranges for once
Grandpa, who’s kneeling on our dried front yard with a worn out copper pail
waters the salty earth slowly until it sprouts sugar canes
chops one down, breaks it in half, the sun beats
peering through palm leaves
a viridescent river of silk and pale honey
my small three year arms grab a hand full
sliced by grandpa into pieces neatly placed
in a blue flowered ceramic bowl
years later, I chop a stalk down and chew until
English becomes a second language again
and in my twenties, I grab a hand full
sliced my mom into pieces, places them in a weaved basket
made of reinforced bamboo
I put it in front of my grandpa’s grave
in Fujian on the foggy mountainside of a small retirement town.
The edge of the South China coast covered in a thick plastic smog,
I sit on a stone eating sweet cold potatoes with my grandpa facing outland,
a red kneeing sun, barely visible past the trees
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 12:41 AM UTC
You burn,
Your flames rise more,
Offering them warmth,
You burn and burn,
Their wooden throats,
And their cold inners,
Now only love it when you're scorching hot.
So you burn and...
you burn,
They are surely pleased.
But the more you burn,
The easier they become cold,
And the quicker you cease,
To smoke.
Dec 12, 2021
Dec 12, 2021 at 10:49 AM UTC
All the while, as I stare up and think and attempt to make something of the thoughts swimming in my head like fish who cannot see, and the mouth of the everything full of so much nothing that surrounds me spews back not a single hint, you, the girl whose hair is licked a charred brown from the crackling fire of passion swirling from your inners, you, the love of my life, all that may have been past and all after ones too, you are the anchor of my imagination, the stone to hold down my wonder, and keep it from floating off into the vastness of the loneliness that consumes everything that is not here, in your arms, against the soft breeze of your touch, and then I know that everything is well, and all the unspoken beauties of the Universe only mean for me to wrap around you in way of mind and soul and body and laughs we share beside a city without lights, five stories above the world and soaring ever higher.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
It started with “Hey!”
I was shy and reserved.
You were boisterous and outgoing.
We became instant friends.
You balanced me on life’s balance scale.
Our lives became in synced.
It continued with “I love you, as a friend”
Daily calls ending at 3 am.
Movie nights in our ugliest Pjs.
I became your relationship therapist
And you became my life counselor.
My heart became entangled with yours.
It grew tricky with “I love you”
Your presence made me giddy.
Your smile made my inners swoon.
Hearing about your relationships
Filled me with envy.
A battle arose between my mind and heart.
It fell apart with “I need you”
You put me down easily.
Showing me my place in your life.
I could be everything but not the “one”.
You would never feel the same,
But we could remain best friends.
It ended with “…… “
Our friendship isn’t able to bounce back.
I cry daily knowing I can’t have your love.
I can love you better than any!
Maybe you’ll realize when I’m gone
That with my heart; is where yours belong.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 6:19 PM UTC
Pickaxe swings,
shards fly.
Pieces move,
yet inners hide.
I've been swinging
both day and night.
Understanding you
is a futile fight.
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 10:27 AM UTC
*
Every time I kiss you
Your breathe smells within me
For many hours of the day
One day it is ***** I kiss
The other day it is coffee
And it is Cranberry or Orange
Otherwise it is good old green tea
That day when you drank Sangria
and came home
I tasted Red wine, Brandy and Soda
So many flavors you carry in your mouth
Of fresh fruits, lemon slices,
peaches and strawberries
The best part is to pluck
With my tongue the residue of fruit seeds
From between your teeth
The pulp and tiny-skin that stick within
Many days you taste like sweet melon
Though melon season isn't there
The day you drink lemonade
My tongue gets a fresh bath within you
The day you drink soda
Your hiccup during our kiss
My inners are blown-away by your gush-breathe
That acidic flavored Soda smell
Sometimes makes me loose my breathe
But we won't let go of our kiss...
When you smoke cigarette
I get a lesson on the taste of brands
Be it Gold Flake, Marlboro, or Wills,
Scissor, Black, Milds and Classics
Among them I like the cold smell
Of your breathe when you've smoked Menthols
And those days when you smoke weeds
The smell of herbs like ***** cannabis & grass
Especially when our kisses are long
They intoxicates my senses
But the best kiss of all is
The kiss of your morning breathe
Just after you wake up
After the whole night's sleep
There I taste the real YOU
And I LOVE all of it
That moment, that kiss...
I always try to prolong
As long as I can...
I keep on drinking you
Gallons and gallons of YOU
Till the LOVE from your heart
Flows from your mouth to my heart
The best kiss of the universe
Is your morning kiss
It is about Our LOVE,
Demonstrating our bond
A sunshine won't become YOU if
YOUR morning kisses won't happen...
That Taste of your kiss is "LOVE"
*
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 10:25 PM UTC
The heart will follow
As I am swallowed
Into a new culture
Of alone
A place of far away
Unsure if I can stay
Confort my inners
with something more
Than surgical knives
And let me impact lives
Teach me to teach
I want to hand out and reach
For my dream of
Being more than myself
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC
I decided today to sit back
And take a look at my life
Not only from the out
But also from the inside
Like an innocent bystander
I'll take myself a gander
And what it is I find
I'll set it down in rhyme
I notice when I do look on the out
I'm always quick to throw out a smile
Pretty much all of the while
I guess a smile is just my style
The in is the one quick with the wit
That's one thing I must admit
Sometimes gets me into the thick
When it really comes down to it
For the inside to come clean
I must mean what I say and say what I mean
There's no doubt about them there beans
I hope you know what it is that I mean
I'm never much serious about
Anything life has to through out
I do love to clown and joke around
Hang with me and that you'll find out
But it's not always all fun and games
As the outside of me deteriorates
But that my friend is all of our fate
As the older we get and our hour is late
I look at the outside of me
And see an old man in the later degree
But in on the in playfully
Is the child still inside of me
That's pretty much who I am
Living this life the best that I can
On the inners and outers I'll play my hand
Wherever I tumble, wherever I land
So this is what I've come up with
When I took a look at my life
Not only from the out
But also from the inside
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 8:04 AM UTC
I am the bell
who tolls for No One
the one you want so wholly
to toll for you –
to drum your inners
and let you know you’re running late
for work today.
I am made of cast iron
and cast away
but mostly string –
the thick kind of string
that twists together
and makes warm things.
I am caged the same way I am bird
which is to say
I am neither;
my wanderlust
makes me trust wings
who are not ready
to be wings.
But I am woman,
not metaphor.
So forget all that.
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 4:33 PM UTC
If someday your fascinating eyes grow playful
And you turn your assassins knife to my heart...
Held in frightening play,
Yet not to tear me apart.
If someday you wonder if my inners are pretty,
(Like you claim my outer frame to be.)
And you decide to peel back my skin,
And peer into the rest of me..
If someday you decide it could be fun to **** me?
I will not be sorry
I will not be sad
Instead? I will be happy of the times we've had.
I'll remember how long your words held me
And the shivers given by your touch.
The degrees of sharpness in your teeth
And yet how you weren't too rough.
I'll remember Winter days.
And how they passed in a daze.
I'll remember saying everything to you twice,
And you never seeming to mind.
I'll recall the promises you made
And the sanity we resisted so well.
I'll dream of every second spent with you,
And being caught under your spell.
You'll seriously hold the blade
And speak quiet words to me.
And I'll think it rather charming,
Such particularity.
You'll grin as you trace it along
that grin I love to see.
You'll tell me it's a joke,
As if you'd ever dispose of me!
And lost in my memories,
I'll forget to be terrified.
I will look into your eyes,
and then I shall smile.
You'd allow the knife to fall
and you'd remain all mine.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 6:34 AM UTC
The day of what once was yours and will forever be read with your voice.
"Did you actually kiss her? Get me a diet Pepsi. Or l,the occasional. Don't be a ******* These are the words that resound love through the drywall heart I have here. This is only the second time I have thought About you. On this day. Well this is the second day of you being gone. It's so much easier believing you only leave once a year. Imagining 364 other days of disappearance melts my shins into crayons splattered on ***** carpets. That ***** impossible to get out. I got some new shoes and I would love to show you. They have helped me walk since you left. My knees are doing okay. It's the inners that don't always stand as tall as they should. My spine curves into a mended embroidered heart with broken springs .... I really love the idea. I am not good with
seeing, but I would love to tell you that home is where the heart is... That your heart is home with me. Because if my heart is found in jack in the boxes, full of energy entwined with extra stitching and barrel rolls stuffed with memories I can't keep in my glove. Then you equipped me with metal braced joints grinding on friction laced sinews, connected with everything I thought was suppose to be true. Home is intentional. Define your existence and discover the purpose of trusting intangible options slanted between us. I trust you. I always have. The reality is that my cylindrical box of chest bones locked in a cage understands power. Power enough to tie my shoes. I want you to know how my shoes handle okay without you. I'm here. Writing, about you and that one day. This Mother's Day I want you to realize that you're day will be here. I'll find you in ***** sea water, dropping out of the last day of college, and chasing that perfect woman. You showed me it. Everything. Lets sleep dark concepts and understandably crossed with altered mentalities. The sun, that's where you started, please stay with me here. We will get warm soon. We are on a crooked edge of the universe wondering how to exist. We are here and now. You showed me how to be here. Because without here your love would have never existed. Here is where everything needs to be.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
Can’t you see me standing right here?
No worries, as long as you do what you’re told.
I whisper your tasks directly into your mind.
You complete them expertly; my work of gold.
I dabble in all of your unsecured senses.
They say the eyes are the windows to the soul.
I direct your gaze to that human over there
and love where your imaginative mind goes.
It’s time to devour deliciousness, my precious friend.
New task is to eat until your inners grieve.
Your stomach will stretch! Complete what I ask!
Have seconds, even fourths, but never say please.
How dare another human think they’re better than you?
You will shame and hate her until the end of time.
Tell everyone you’re the gift given to the world-
that you bless them daily with your beauty’s shine.
The task of lying is personally your favorite.
You lie happily with no sadness in sight.
The drama you conjure makes me so proud.
Your best lies even started a massive fight.
You wear wrath and anger so beautifully.
I make you drape them around your lovely neck.
The glow coming from it blinds logic's vision ;
with only a whisper I make your life a wreck.
We’ve been joined together for a long while now.
You chose to fulfill all of my given tasks.
Since you have died, you will travel down with me.
Your way to the light- you’ve forsaken in the past.
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 10:47 AM UTC
I want you to be my forest fire.
A natural disaster to incinerate the tall standing regrets of my past. Casting the darkness over the people I've taken advantage of and things I'' never admit to be true.
Expose my shadows.
Cleanse the dirt I have trampled upon.
Lake Tanner, I'm sorry. Mom, I'm sorry.
People whose footsteps molded my heart into a perfect sandcastle bomb waiting for high tide.
Renew my inners.
Heat up these lungs so I an no longer speak.
Burn memories into my throat,
That way my heart understand a new beginning.
Building empires of renewed crowns in my smile.
Exhaust my lies.
Let me regrow into something pure.
Away from the broken forest of my past.
Exposure into something more than myself.
Water my roots,
Watch me take flight from this earth.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
a lot cooler
if you did restore HP
to old-school functionality
when things, like, functioned
consistently. reliably. simply.
there are so many
little things *******
that I overlook because
this place is part of me and
how I speak
it’s our mouthpiece for
soul love light dark scenes
so, just make it work
for our inners
and, plz -
do.
some.
testing.
kludgey af workaround:
save poem as draft
edit draft and save as public
Dec 13, 2017
Dec 13, 2017 at 11:25 PM UTC