"kleenex" poems
Porous asphalt,
And bandaged, quilt
Homes puncture the
Neighborhood,
Which reads like a tattered
American flag; all
Coke Ads and weight loss
Billboards,
Half-burnt houses slant,
Like the hills of San Francisco—
Our own makeshift cable
Carts, limping up
And down the inclines.
We are slowly being burned
By our once golden sun—
Having been taught to
Bleach ourselves
Pale, tucked shamefully
In the shade.
Makeshift shanty towns
Which smell of mildew
And processed laundry soap,
Flimsy tin roofs
Tied with Kleenex and
Pizza Hut tarpaulins.
The fact that this neighborhood
Was christened "Freedom"
Strikes an empty pang.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 9:50 AM UTC
I’ve written words since I found out that those graphite sticks
could form them and wrote my name
on the top of a kleenex box
when I was four.
I’ve written words since I learned that each one
held a meaning I could hear in my head.
I’ve written words since I realized that writing
releases them from my mind,
so that I can hear myself think.
I’ve written words because numbers run away from me,
just out of grasp, teasing me with
their teamwork and rigid cooperation
and parenthetical expressions.
I’ve written words never read by anyone,
words which embarrass with their frankness
words which I’ve burned thinking they would die.
I’ve written words which I longed to share
because they fit together better than numbers
and made my skin crawl with their
deliciousness.
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 3:07 PM UTC
It made me
Sick.
The kind of sick
That books describe
As green,
Ghostly skinned
With red rust noses.
Sick to my stomach
Like when you wake up
At 2:00 AM
And realize that
Something
Is
Not
Right
Before you sprint
Down the hall
To the bathroom
And ***** pizza bagels into the
Pristine marble sink.
It made me sick like
When it gets so bad that
Blowing your nose hurts
Because the extra soft Kleenex
Have scratched your skin raw
Over
And
Over
Again.
It made me sick
When I realized
That it wasn't you that I loved
But the feeling of being loved.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
What is a good state of mind?
When your away your always on my mind.
Being here with me is fine.
Too have a kleenex for your nose an have one say bless you, that would be so kind.
A roof over my head,
WHAT is a good state of mind?
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
i. "Why did the number of parking tickets spike
when Persephone was carried off to the underworld?
Demeter wasn't working."
She liked greek mythology puns.
It was a good thing I was creative.
ii. Truth or Dare, I asked her what
was the best decision she's ever made.
she answered with, "In 7th grade I named my puppy Achilles,
so when I saw him I could say, 'Achilles, heel!'"
iii. It took me two weeks to realise that
when we held hands, I wasn't really
holding her hand, but a chainsaw,
ready to slash through anything that stood in our way like
Hercules chopping off the Hydra's head.
I was immortal.
iv. August eleventh; 9 PM
we watched for the meteor shower.
I connected the freckles splayed upon her knee,
told her they looked like the constellation of Cassiopeia.
"Be Sirius" she jested.
v. She had a bad habit
of smoking at the beach and I
Wondered if she knew that with
every single flick of ash into the water,
Poseidon was cursing her to the River Styx.
vi. Headaches visited her often, I joked that
maybe she was getting ready to birth
a Goddess from her cranium. She
did not find it clever.
vii. You could say we became like Aphrodite and
Hephaestus. I, longing for her. She,
lusting after another. A synonym for her
headaches would be me.
viii. Apparently if you hack off a Hydra head, two
would grow to replace it. Knowing this sooner
probably would have saved me from numerous
amounts of Kleenex and chocolate.
ix. She left me a note on the dresser,
"Fun fact: Medusa's favourite cheese was
Gorgon-zola. PS - you remind me
of Medusa, please remember to brush your hair."
She reminds of Medusa as well, I do not doubt that if we
meet again, her eyes would still turn me into
stone.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
My mouth blooms like a cut.
I've been wronged all year, tedious
nights, nothing but rough elbows in them
and delicate boxes of Kleenex calling crybaby
crybaby , you fool!
Before today my body was useless.
Now it's tearing at its square corners.
It's tearing old Mary's garments off, knot by knot
and see -- Now it's shot full of these electric bolts.
Zing! A resurrection!
Once it was a boat, quite wooden
and with no business, no salt water under it
and in need of some paint. It was no more
than a group of boards. But you hoisted her, rigged her.
She's been elected.
My nerves are turned on. I hear them like
musical instruments. Where there was silence
the drums, the strings are incurably playing. You did this.
Pure genius at work. Darling, the composer has stepped
into fire.
5.3k
Last weekend was “Parent’s” weekend at Yale. A time when parents are formally invited to visit. They have receptions and other events - but no potato-sack races (which is disappointing). My parents couldn’t come, they’ve never come to parent’s weekend, but Leong’s parents came again, from Macao, China, a 16,060-mile round trip.
There was a time when boys could tank my self-confidence with a word. When the male gaze seemed overpowering. I’d felt constantly evaluated - but I’ve evolved - somewhat. We’re going to a party. Lisa, Leong, Sunny, Anna and I - we’ve got our shine on and we’re drawing looks. Well, ok, Lisa’s drawing looks and I’m in the general frame.
Lisa sneezed, “The air quality’s bad tonight,” she announced, wiping her nose with a Kleenex.
“I don’t have any allergies,” I bragged. “Me neither,” Leong added.
“If you can breathe the air in China,” I said, “You’re golden.”
Leong laughed “Tài zhēnshí liǎo,” (Too true!) She agreed.
As we left the more street-lit part of the path, the moon, wandering in and out of the clouds, created moving shadows that peopled the darkness with phantoms. Was that impression the paranoia of fatigue? I haven’t been getting much sleep lately. Or maybe it’s October and Halloween’s just around the corner.
I was walking in the rear, nestled in the mingled scents of my roommates' perfumes that, like rare blossoms, enchanted and excited the child in me. I wasn’t paying attention, and I stubbed my toe on a misaligned sidewalk tile. Don’t you hate the gap between stubbing your toe and feeling the pain?
Oct 11, 2023
Oct 11, 2023 at 8:15 PM UTC
In my room alone,
I lay naked on my bed,
Magazines and videos - laid out nicely,
Not Andrex but Kleenex there instead,
I flick through the pages,
Holding on so tight,
While on the screen there's stuff obscene,
Ejoying this pleasing sight,
Up and down i gently rub,
'Til my head rolls back in bliss,
Faster, faster then i'll stroke,
Thinking of that kiss.
Wishing i were the one up there,
Getting ****** off by a pro,
Instead of spread eagle on my back,
I'd rather be getting a blow,
To have my **** ****** off by her,
The one with shaven lips,
To pull her close and enjoy the roast,
Driving at her hips,
Oh but alone i am with **** in hand,
Wanking myself to sleep,
But i know when i close my eyes,
The visions of you i'll keep.
So for now, content am i,
Playing with my ****
Shooting out my *** in streams,
And tasting it til i'm sick,
I wish that you were back here with me,
To give me such a treat,
Then on my kness, for you i'd go,
And surely find something to eat,
But i'm stuck with magazines and videos,
Of ladies eating out,
So that's my tale for all to see,
What wanking's all about.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 2:30 PM UTC
Hate the holidays well I got one for you.
Dont have to follow no rules.
Just drink till ya drop.
To what's the ocassion still ya
havent a clue.
Hey there missy.
dont **** and moan just grab a pint
ya big *****
No need for a kleenex just wipe that blood off
on your sleeve.
Stoner slacker and poets unite for
it's Thanksgiving Eve.
No need to hang anything by the
chimney with care.
But it is a party so lets see your underwear.
Lets beat the holiday blues.
Hey who's drunk and horney?
Short skirts and thoose high heel shoes.
Crank that jukebox hey grandpa theres
no need to leave.
Cause everyone is included on Thanksgiving eve.
Hey amigo if we play are cards right.
we can stir enough **** to see a chick fight.
Hey whats going on upstairs God only knows.
It's not cheating just wrestling without any
clothes.
Hey who just cut a whole in the floor?
hey grandpa ya better watch that exotic woman
your dancing with.
Cause she's a woman with a little more.
Hey ya'll the cops are coming along with a swat
team so it's my cue to leave.
but like that fat ***** in a red suit I'll
return to bring ya another great Thanksgiving Eve.
Nov 25, 2009
Nov 25, 2009 at 8:21 AM UTC
there’s a moth crawling up my kitchen wall
I had the sudden urge to **** it
smother it with a kleenex
swat it with a rolled up magazine
it keeps crawling up
losing its steadiness, almost falling
then regaining its steadiness again
moths freak me out
they look creepy
they look fragile
they look contaminated
perhaps they are contaminated with curiosity
so am I
their flickering flame is my flickering self-sabotage
I had an urge
I wanted to **** it
I’m just like this curious creature
just as fragile
just as contaminated
I might as well be looking in a mirror
and I had the urge to **** it
Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 1:08 PM UTC
We were on a 2nd floor garden terrace. The three-quarter moon was doing its best to set a romantic, gin-mood, pouring a soft pastel-blue on the world, that softened hard edges.
A cool breeze wafted jasmine scents from a nearby tea-olive tree. We were alone, the only sounds were far off footsteps and my pounding heart. Wasn’t this romantic?
Fueled twice by desire I had dressed carefully and modestly, with just a subtle, but fancy, hint of sluttiness. My costume, carefully vetted by a company of five, calculating, non-virgins, was designed to be both alluring and as abstruse as Kleenex. I was a doll dressed, painted and scented to ****** Wasn’t I romantic?
We’d never kissed before, and I wanted him to kiss me with an almost moaning force of will. I brushed my skirt down and checked that my hair was in place with quick, fleeting hand motions that could have been butterflies in the reflected light.
We were sitting close together, I could feel his warmth, but nothing was happening and then, as nothing continued to happen, I began to fret, to sag, what was the glitch? Maybe..
I felt a warmth, his breath, I looked up and he kissed me, gently, then moved back a little. I smiled. I wanted to laugh, to shout, to jump around like my team had won the Superbowl, but I was very still, lest I scare him off. Oh, there were butterflies somewhere.
He’s smart. His mind probes the infinite but sometimes neglects the immediate. I wasn’t expecting a smooth move from someone who’s all knees, thumbs and elbows but, hey, I’m capable, and willing, to learn.
Aug 28, 2022
Aug 28, 2022 at 2:15 PM UTC
Strong spring winds and summer breezes
Only add strength to my sneezes
I cannot breathe...I'm on my kneezes
I'm only good when outside freezes
I need a kleenex now
I cannot breathe with pollen flying
I swear to god that I'm not lying
My eyes run so...I feel like crying
My chest hurts bad...I think I'm dying
I need some meds and how
I wish I lived inside a bubble
Then I'd have no breathing trouble
Can someone build one on the double?
My throat is dry and full of rubble
I need cough mixture now
I dream of snow instead of summer
My hayfever makes life a ******
I need something so I feel number
The problem is that I feel dumber
Please knock this out...kapow
Hayfever is my one affliction
My eyes and throat are full of friction
I take my meds, they're my addiction
My throat is suffering from constriction
Somebody help me ...now!!!
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 8:00 PM UTC
You are like a box of kleenex
But you are more than a box of tissues
You are there when I am sick
Or whenever I cry over personal issues
You are there to help me
Clean up my messes
You are there to comfort me
With my life stresses
I need to take you everywhere with me
In pocket form, when I travel too far
And traveling gets easier
When there's one in the car
You help me aid others
When they are sick or need help
You can never have too much kleenex
Or a mother's love for yourself
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 4:10 AM UTC
by my distracted count
there are more pictures
of naked women on the
internet, than there are
atoms in all the oceans
of the Earth.
note to self: buy stock
in tube socks and
Kleenex. Flaunt wealth.
but don't you ever
change.
Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 2:13 PM UTC
Well the doctor told me I was out tears ?
The doctors told me I would never sweat again ?
I am 10 lbs UNDER weight & will never gain it back ?
I won't regain a lot of lost muscle ,so I won't be able to lift 200lbs again ?
My appetite is 1/2 what it has been my whole life?
My blood ,heart,other parts ,fat,cholesterol etc. are as good as a teenagers?
My credit will straighten back out this yr.:)
I think the cost savings in KLEENEX,DEODORANT,FOOD, & then knowing I can't lift means my back won't hurt,saves ON CHIROPRACTORS and PAIN KILLERS :)
Plain food tastes "fine" now I can sell off my cookbook & kitchen junk collection:)
I have missed out 30 yrs of junk food , I might as well go for it now :)
with that cost saving and a small loan I can pay off another house & paint it PINK just to freak the neighbors out :):)
Hey I am "POSITIVE" that is a good side to be on :) R.C.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 7:44 PM UTC
Reflect, reflect, reflect
Trust yourself and trust your client
Accept those you counsel
If you don't know what to say, smile
Finish on time
Don't talk too much
Show your joy
Hide your judgments
Try to work yourself out of a job
Love yourself
Clarify, clarify, clarify
Stomp out erroneous thinking
Keep Kleenex handy
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 8:06 AM UTC
My love for him,
Is greater then,
my love for myself,
He has wiped away tears,
Shed for the past year,
I name him tissue box boy,
Because of you can sit,
And here all my ****
Your a used tissue,
But I love you,
But I can't **** you,
Pull out your Kleenex now,
Because of a guy,
Who did things to me,
You let me cry,
on your shoulder,
Because you tell me he was,
Wrong and always will be,
And I sniffle more,
Because you hold me,
When I need it and it's a lot,
And I wet your shirt,
Because you don't care,
I may never **** you,
And you may cry now too,
But you don't need that,
To love me,
And I stop crying for a minute,
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,
And you just love me,
And hold me,
Because love isn't about,
Physicalness it's love,
And with that,
You reply your empty box,
For next time.
Tissue box boy.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 10:32 PM UTC
he likes neck kisses and being called "sweetheart."
he drinks milk when he eats peanut butter,
offer to pour it for him.
he loves pugs and his dog, scooby.
if you're not best friends with scooby by the first month,
you're doing something wrong.
when he tells you you're beautiful,
it is easier to just agree.
when he takes you home,
allow plenty of time to say goodnight (he takes forever).
he hates crunchy peanut butter.
he'll give you his jackets and hug you until you stop crying.
if you watch lord of the rings with him, bring kleenex.
know and understand star wars references or you're *******
he is an incredible writer.
he'll buy you lots of things for christmas,
do not try to compensate.
if he isn't the best boyfriend you've ever had,
you're not giving him enough credit.
love him, he deserves it.
and i kinda hope you never exist,
because i'm not done loving him yet
and i don't think i ever will be.
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 1:03 AM UTC
sneezing has become
my main occupation
I've been busy wiping up
my nasally irrigation's
ten boxes of Kleenex tissue
I have already used
they've been frequently
catching all my achoo's
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 8:44 AM UTC
I sat in the third row.
Staring at the red velveteen,
the gleaming black exterior-
of the open casket.
My abuela’s black veil masked her face,
however could not hide her gentle trembling.
Discarded Kleenex crumbled,
on the harsh wooden floors.
That resonated the sound of her heels
as she pace d the floor.
While she recited Hail Mary’s,
and prayed to God.
Abuela no lloran,
She held my hand.
I saw what my mother tried to prevent.
Abulo with bruises on his skin,
similar to the coffee stain on my father’s ivory shirt.
His amputated leg, and still expression
I walked away, I learned my lesson.
*Abula no lloran means Grandma don’t cry in Spanish
-Marissa Navedo
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 2:46 AM UTC
I want to be thin as a whisper,
To be feline and **** a cat with long whiskers,
To have length and width but no depth at all,
Not one bit of fat and to walk model tall,
I’ll take drugs, gobble Kleenex, drink only weak tea
Whatever it takes, to not ever be me.
I want to be loved like a pillow, feathered and light,
Held close to your cheek, cuddled all night,
To be soft squished and moulded into all kinds of lovers,
A prop up, a padding, a bump under the covers,
A cushion encased in a bright burst of stars,
I can’t wait to be normal, I’m slightly bizarre.
I want to be lost in crowd of loud celebration,
To be swept up and away in a mass of flirtation,
To be jostled and felt up, the hands of rude strangers,
A joyous outburst, wet kissing ex-changers,
To abandon my will, flee from restraint,
I can’t be, I could be, I am what I ain't.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 6:59 PM UTC
When I arch my back
so my face hovers close
Above the college ruled paper,
I narrow my shoulders
until the green fleece of my jacket
kisses at my red ears.
I move my body weight
to my left side, shifting
and wrapping my right foot
around the cold metal desk leg,
the hiss of the fluorescent
lights above licking a steady whisper.
I hear pens scratching permanent
ink onto dry paper and noses dripping
snot onto cheap Kleenex squares,
a melodic metronome racing
against the preset clock in my mind
I’ve ignored over the past four years.
Will it be worth it?
Thomas sits on my red ears
and whispers, reminding
that I have but one more semester.
Am I Dotstoyevsky?
Can I claim to be Milton?
Am I worth?
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 10:29 PM UTC
And my dad wanted us to hurry.
He worked the night shift.
Sweat on his forehead evidenced his
displeasure with rising sun.
35 mm in his hands. Steel-toed boots on pavers.
My mother stuffed another box of Kleenex in my
backpack. Gritted the metal teeth. Ready?
Ready. Her hands on my shoulders.
Take another one. Josh wasn't smiling.
Dad winded the film.
I don't want to smile.
My mother stuck her fingers into my mouth
pulling opposite and up.
And her fingers tasted like
the musty pages in the books without pictures.
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
The blood clot is
back. Up to old
tricks. A halloween mask.
A heart attack with a laugh,
One day. that old
**** is gonna kick,
Leave me with his water gun collection .
Body in the ocean
Someone built a giant cave
inside of me last night. When I was sleep-
ing someone built a cave in side
of me last night.when i was sleeping.
Someone built a giant cave inside of me last night someone. Built a giant cave inside of me last night .
Body in the ocean.
Now it's ocean everywhere it's
flowing but nothing flows.
The ocean is still now
so still it is a salt lick.
Body in the ocean.
Chopped off his own scalp
sever'd Body after Body in
the ocean. Skinless. Battered. Beaten. Bested. Busted appendix. Internally bleeding. Externally bleeding. Bleeding from the mouth. Bleeding from the eyes, ears, and throats. The devastating side effects of self-
anhila-
tion..
Every one laughing at the bl
o
odclot
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 10:17 AM UTC
Everybody says DONT YOU CRY....
But I hurt so bad
I need to cry
pain cant hide
pain cant heal
needs to EXPLODE
massive EXPLOSION means CRY!
my tears are brimming in my eyes..
Expect a Heavy downpour now
the tiny drops is waiting for no signal
BUT aren't you too big girl to cry?
That was what they said yesterday
Thats what they are saying again now
Kleenex where are you?
Wipe away the tears with my sleeve instead
Too shy to let them see
Tears of a big girl..
They say big girls dont cry...
Let me choose to cry in silent
In silent I cry...
see no tears , no tears
Too embarrass I am a big girl now
So I hide my tears within..
Discreetly, emotionally
keep reminding my self
I am too big girl to cry...
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC