"liquified" poems
The feelings don't hurt much anymore
But the memories are shards of glass
Swirling in my head.
It's like,
I can't feel your touch
But I remember loving it
When you touched me.
And I can't hear your laugh
But I remember how my body
Liquified at the sound.
And I can't see your face
But I remember its beautiful shape
And how you'd smile at me
As I came into view.
I wish I could pretend
That your memory is you.
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC
Two sides, four faces.
A god of some type, enraged.
Three eyes open, five hearts broken.
How the man who taught me morals
Went astray . . .
and I can't help him.
He won't let me teach him
The very same things
That he taught me
So I breathe through the filthy air!
Reminds me of a home;
One that is now liquified.
How bitter it is to swallow fire . . .
I trail through the tracks;
A horse amidst a mess of baggage.
Unsaddled;
To trot on
Into the fine truths of this world,
This one we call our abode.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 10:44 AM UTC
When I discovered I had cancer,
I was told that I would learn a lot
About Life and Death and Time,
But I never thought that I would
Discover what it means
To be intimate
With strangers,
Or anyone, for that matter.
When my insides were cut open like a game of operation,
I told myself:
Be detached.
When visitors came,
We talked about the weather.
When I arrived home, I spent my time
Trying to forget
The experience
Of impermanence
And shared emotions
That I couldn't even grapple with
Myself.
When the person I loved
Left me
I flinched
And then sunk back into an abyss of
Emotionless functioning,
Cutting myself further and further
Off from my narrative
Of pain.
When it was time to go back to school,
I flinched
And signed up for a workload
Heavy enough
To push out the fading reality
Of my condition.
It wasn't until I was sitting on the steps
Outside of a bar that was slowly beginning
To empty out,
As intoxicated shadows gained substance and lit cigarettes against the brick wall.
I sunk down next to friend I had recently met-
My big t shirt inched up above my abdomen
And the lower jagged mark of my scar
Peeked out-
I didn't choose to tell him my story
Until he asked me about the obvious
Stale incison mark that had a presence
Of its own.
Piece by piece, it peeled itself from off my stomach
And liquified into a sequence of events
And feelings
That poured from me
Like a stream of bubbling bath water
Overflowing from the rim
Of a porcelain tub.
That's when I realized that there is something shared and intimate about scars:
Marred reminders of the flesh
That speak to our upmost human
Encounters with our own mortality.
An indecipherable label of sorts:
An unsigned invitation into the taboo.
In a moment of unintentional word *****
At 2am to a stranger,
I regained my intimacy with myself
And my journey.
I learned that while Life and Death and Time
Will always plague our existence,
They distance us from the human experience that is
To feel:
To feel everything in this God forsaken world.
To feel angry at people for leaving when they should have stayed.
To feel compassion at the same time.
To feel intimacy with others.
To feel intimacy with yourself.
To feel love.
To feel pain.
To feel the cold creases in the wooden floor as you make your way to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
To feel alone.
To feel surrounded.
To feel the trembling echoes of the past and be able to grab its elusive coattails and shake away the dusty remnants of time and shout that you are present.
To feel nothing.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC
This obsession, with the regression-
Well I'd never lean my lessons faster than
The tide swaying my bones in a bottle
Out to the jetti where the jaded rocks crashed me
I became seaglass, a smoothed over mass that
Taught me, nothing,
Taught me,nothing-
And dried salt sprayed our eyes
Liquified voices,called our names
Countless times;
A doubt to follow our old ways
A risen flame, just brushing the lions mane
Oh sweet, silly things, much bigger
Than I can see,you right infrount of
Where I need to be—
"Where do I need to be?"
I tried every road, the breaks failed me
The careless casualties
Taught me nothing,
Taught me nothing.
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 6:22 AM UTC
Turn the lights off so that I may know you
In this safe space, I invite you to indulge in our mutual vulnerability
Feel protection in my arms as I guard your heart
As I keep it warm between our chests
Set your gaze to mine while you share with me your aspirations
I yearn to experience them through the windows to your soul
Share with me your fears so that I may put them to rest
May this bed be a holy and sacred place for us
May this bed be our confession booth free from ridicule
May this bed be a tithing basket for you to receive love with no boundaries
In this bed, allow divine pleasure to overwhelm you
Let your ****** match the depth of your trust
Let your tears turn to sweat that trickles down the valley of your spine
Let your ****** fluids baptize you; cleanse you of any guilt
Share with me your spiritual awakening
As I receive communion with your raw, unfiltered, liquified emotion running down your body
Toss out your bible, for the only religious text I need is your diary
Allow me to tie every inch of your glorious body to a memory
I wish not to **** but to love
I wish to fulfill all your fetishistic urges
For I know they are tied to a psychological yearning
By the end of the night I wish to know every inch of your flesh
I want the knowledge to be accompanied by the memories that make you, you
And if I fail, there's always round two after we cuddle
Tyler Castro
3/19/17
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 2:11 AM UTC
Like two scorpions in a bottle,
The two wolves continue to fight.
One holds never-ending dominance
Relentlessly mocking and scolding.
The slanderous one, better known as the chief
The master, better known as my back bone.
The other wolf; the sufferer,
Facing the horror of the fire.
Like luscious, vibrant air filled with beauty and self-worth
With the intensity and beauty of a glowing golden sun,
Glittering as it beams among the surface of the waters.
The lustrous one, better known as my daydreams
The lovely one, better known as my pure naked self.
Like two scorpions in a bottle,
There was a fight between evil and good.
The winner; the one the operator chooses to feed,
The winner; a display of my blindness.
Blindness, lacking the sense of sight; sightless.
Blind to the naked beauty and worth of the lovely wolf,
The starving wolf.
Like two scorpions in a bottle,
The two wolves continued to fight inside of me.
The delightful became liquified into dark raw evil,
Leaving me drowning, gasping
Gasping the slightest bit of that air of self-worth.
(C) Emily Mckusker 2016
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 6:30 AM UTC
sometimes i forget that i
exist so
desire me, require me
am i not the oxygen that keeps you alive
the very oxygen that could set you alight
skin on skin,
right left and centre
blazing trails along my spine
set my lungs on fire
watch as i burn alive
from my stomach to my throat
burn me up, liquified fire
melting into my brain, setting my nerves aflame
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 8:42 PM UTC
I've always been the brave one
But when I try to confront you
I can never say the words
That I need to
And there's a reason why
I only call you
Once I've finished
A fifth of ***
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 4:37 PM UTC
my mind liquified overnight
i spat it out this morning
mixed with with black coffee
three sugars
no more
no less
or, not ever usually less
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 4:15 AM UTC
the convex, the wretch caves
listlessly, she folds
primitive in her ways, she survives
a tear in time
just like the moments in REM
she has control
and her heart!
and her heart!
with teeth, now, with teeth
she opens up and her teeth scream in unison
“we are and thank god for that”
welcomed to her own subconscious
she eats well and sleeps tightly
her food is her madness
serenity:thepeace
serenity:thepeace
liquified dessert cakes
solidified scents
the pink slip
truth be told
she has lived a lucid life
bereft
what a lazy martyr!
what a lazy martyr!
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 5:55 PM UTC
I never told my mother I love her until my senior year,
and I have been scheduled lately to care for a dying woman,
struggling, gasping for dry misty air. Few weeks ago, I leaned
over a newborn to monitor his extrauterine adaptation, his cry for life.
I first learned from my psychiatric nursing class that recognition
is a form of therapy, an ephemeral touch to the soul, the kind that
gifts me little snacks as reward for small talks with a patient. I guess it is the
words that turn into charms. I once asked an irritable elderly woman
if she had eaten and she also asked me in return. I was liquified. My house
has never had picture frames hung up on the walls. Crumbles of loss,
torn wedding album, heartbreak in my larva years.
I feel so privileged to be saved by the sick or I may say, to view
nursing as a means of holding on to life.
Some time in my senior year, I encountered a woman, same age
as my mother, with brain aneurysm and every movement of
her head, limb, and torso hurt her. I assisted her to the bathroom,
then I introduced myself again.
Apr 6, 2023
Apr 6, 2023 at 8:24 AM UTC
I was never superstitious
but if incarnation would be true
let me live a thousand more lives
condensed and liquified
as an ink to your mind's pen,
as words to your drunken poetry.
Let each stroke embody
every curve of my body
that your hands have ever held
so long.
Cross your t's
telling the story of our love
how one point was met
with another with a line,
replacing what once
was empty space.
And dot your i's
with the periods of our story;
from our book's first sentence
in the introductory
to the last sentence
of our cliffhanger.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 9:51 AM UTC
I find the idea of you quite ticklish
like woolen mittens, itchy wrists
a poke, a ****
a reminder tireless.
I find simplicity to be at fault
for fiddling fantasies, like bad dreams
dizzy and liquified
not so, as it seems.
And through months of fleshly illness, in denial of feminine prowess,
I was held under a rock
by a love so callused:
I was smitten in the smog of your smile.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
Moments of sanity, stark and white
Glistening clarity, clearly bright,
Dreadful slowness bogging down
Head confusion's clogged and brown.
Pulsing pain behind the eye
Ever there, ever dry,
Concentration...How do I?
When this very sky...does fry.
Fight the fight and slug it out
Hold proceedures stolid route,
Step by step with gritted teeth
Despite the liquified... beneath.
Confidence... important toy
Utilize illusions ploy,
Keep the basic image sound,
Keep control's facade well found.
Struggle with the swirling mist
Make the sliding brain persist,
Make each step a simple move
Trust it all just might...improve.
Keep it calm, stay serene
Keep contention squeeky clean,
Take the pills, breath the air,
Another day you might be there?
Hold her close and kiss her hair,
It's her warm strength which blocks despair,
She's the rock that holds me tight
Holds at bay this ******* fright.
Fight the fight and stall for time
Take the pills, appear sublime,
Concentrate as best you can
Wear the strokes ...as history man!
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
25 September 2010
Sep 24, 2010
Sep 24, 2010 at 7:40 PM UTC
Go to sleep, it’s past midnight.
And watch your nightmares come to life.
It’s a sick freak show,
Heck we should know,
Mother get me a knife.
This house smells of stale liquor.
The poison blood, it runs deeper.
Take my hand,
It’s so cold,
And soon will be colder and stiffer.
I watch the bruises bloom and fade.
But the shame – it will never change.
I’m always at war,
Face to the floor,
Father, this is what you made.
Drag me down and yank me under.
It feels like home in a whirl of thunder.
Will the sun shine?
Will you reach me in time?
Or back to misery plunder.
Vicious circle, round and round.
Get up, slammed down, get up, down.
I’ll hide amidst torture,
As least it’s familiar,
And I promise not to make a sound.
I see the needle, the stumble in your step.
Eyes roll back, warmth up your neck.
We are all insecure,
How can you be sure?
You’ll die if you overstep.
Put me in a blinding daze,
I don’t want to feel the pain.
Yes, I am running,
Coward? Maybe.
I tried to burn a flame.
I’m not made of china, I don’t easily break.
I am purely liquified so don’t make that mistake.
I won’t hold together,
Unless you cage me in,
Come and get me Lucifer, how much more can I take in?
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 12:20 PM UTC
Self healing is amazing.
Sometime I rather dream forever and never wake up.
What matters to me is what I can not see.
Just like oxygen love is vital.
Seems too often love is idle.
I see myself adjust to ways or games I thought I'd never play.
In retrospect I was already liquified dope
Easy to follow, but then I knew sorrow
When I vent and repent it is usually rare
It is not a coincidence when our emotions bleed bare
Stay aware of the masks that we all tend to wear
I never experienced a nightmare
Who is scared of what the night shares?
Were all connected now spiritually and through the internet, so stay alert and never fumble to negative interceptions
Electric relaxation is a humble connection
Perception is a trip because I never seen my self
Crazy who I think I am I'm not to someone else
Serene, for the moments
Steady, on an orbit whirl
Self healing is amazing.
Ready for these foreign worlds.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC
underwater caves
limited oxygen tanks
and headlights tied around my head
you told me to go home
how the **** do you expect me to go home
when my blood has liquified into
40 proof, nose bleeding
from the white angels sent
from above
and vision double
wide like the target you
seem to of set
come back to ohio
come back to arizona
2000 miles in-between
baby i'd love to, but my mom
is passed out drunk on the kitchen floor
and i haven't seen daddy in a month
i heard he was dating some woman
in West Virginia
I heard that he was happy
without us
10 years ago i broke her cigarettes
hid them above the refrigerator
"mommy you'll die"
"mommy smoking isn't good for you"
she quit that april
and hasn't looked back since
the apple doesn't fall far from the tree
or so they say
i'm knee high in cigarette ash
and beer bottles
and i'm looking so far back
i'm like a reverse version of myself
and you wonder why i don't let people in
and you wonder why I'm so hurt by
you befriending that boy who
I embraced 100%
it's because he saw what i had to offer
and turned the other cheek
he ****** me on the laundry room
floor and then the next day
threw me down the hamper
it's like i belonged with the filth
i kissed a boy i had just met that night
and he had large bass player hands
and his fingers wrapped around my jaw bone
i was being consumed
and he told me i was special
and i did not believe him
but i still pretend that
that night met something to me
but it's already fading
i just want to believe him
but he meant nothing
to me
there are two houses now
separate lives
i haven't seen daddy in a month
and mom stashes alcohol in the cabinet
above the sink
it's 4 am and she still is not home
she's probably ******* some guy
or passed out in the street
and daddy is no where to be seen
they said they hadn't loved each other
for 10 years
10 years ago she quite smoking
I can't help but think she quit
her marriage that year too
i haven't hugged them since I was 7
and the therapist says that is why
I hate being touched
or hugged
or any physical contact
it burns my skin and makes me cringe
why didn't they hug me
why couldn't they of just loved each other
it's never that simple
but it really should be
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 5:00 AM UTC
Magnetic Contaminations & Audiotronic Visions,
Sublimating Poetic Transmutations Of Her Catatonic Provisions,
Primordial Metamorphosis Of Her Synthetic Overtunes,
Revealing Self-Perpetuated Biotic Tunes,
Protoplasmic Sparks In Her Cryptic Eyes,
Condensing Into Labyrinthine Whispers & Mortal Butterflies,
Myriad Phantasms On Feral Nights,
Fervid Effigies Under Moaning Lights,
Phantasmal Echoes & Mystic Whisperings,
Catalyzing Crepuscular Skies Under A Moonlit Spring,
Spiritual Crafts & Her Supernova Screams,
Evaporating Molotov Solution Of Her Liquified Dreams,
Untouched Realms & Her Ecstatic Overflows,
Refueling With Fantasy Effects Of Her Verbal Glows,
Arcane Stains & Her Floral Clones,
Primal Profanity Raining Over Her Coral Throne,
Handmade Essence Of Her Still-Born Eternity,
Recklessly Serenading Through Her Lacteal Galaxy,
Hypersonic Dreams & Venomous Virility,
Tampering Her Ionic Revelations Of Exquisite Hostility,
Progressive Factuals & Her Motionless Serenity,
Invocating Her Violets Serving Blue Infinity,
Apparitional Mirrors & Her Immaculate Misconceptions,
Weaponizing Fireflies In Whisky Perceptions.
- 05:52AM -
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 8:22 PM UTC
Instead of reading I smoked.
Instead of painting I smoked.
Instead of playing the piano I smoked.
Instead of crying or yelling I smoked.
Rather than tell my friends the real reasons why I smoked I lit the cigarette,
and the next,
hoping by putting toxins into my body I could forget about the ones already eating at me from the inside out.
At least I could sit alone and let the guilt of smoking distract me from the guilt of not being
"a part of this family",
or help me forget the man who served a purpose but served no love.
No compassion, no understanding.
Only a shadowy figure with a quite disposition and a word that fell like an iron fist on my throat.
I imagine the smoke being liquified.
Descending like melted steel down my throat manifesting into the parts of my body that were cut the deepest.
The black intertwined with the metallic lava and swirled inside me filling every void it could. Eventually it would catch up to me.
The thick solution would find its way to my throat and could only be swallowed with bravery and the courage to not let
*******
like
him
ruin a life not given to them to ruin, but to encourage.
If someone like him wanted to ruin his life, then go the **** ahead. But don't you dare destroy a life not meant for you to destroy.
You were supposed to be a father not a disappearing ghost who only spoke when determining someone else's fate.
Who knew a
transparent hand could hold
so
much
power.
And yet, you see your harmful grip losing its strength over me and you try to grasp harder.
But a coward who hides behind an armor of steel cannot bruise someone who built their protection to mimic THEIRS.
Your ghostly smoke, similar to the smoke that drifts from my cigarette now, cannot blur my eyes to see that you ****** me into thinking that this was
NORMAL.
I hope you know ******* well that I'm stronger than the timid girl you made me into.
So **** you.
**** you and your insincere, misunderstanding miscommunication, and **** the way you treat me.
I know for a fact you don't treat anyone else like this and I hope one day I can understand why the **** you would treat your own daughter the ****** UP way you do.
But then again I don't.
Because what reason in hell would I want to understand a monster like you.
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 9:49 PM UTC
You kiss me with your native tongue
Between sea salted breaths
Hints of starfruit and filth
Relish saintly dialects
Distant malaise clings to
Gritted teeth, unclenched
Your kaleidoscope soul
Vulnerable, drenched
Dripping liquified gold
Ornate in transcendental air
Upstaging whatever gods
May reside up there
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC
Did you grow up thinking a streak of black ink across your eyelids
would make you feel better about yourself
Did you grow up thinking fake lashes
would make someone fall in love with you a little more
Did you grow up thinking eye-enlarging contact lenses
would make someone look at you any differently
Did you grow up thinking a bottle of liquified foundation
would make you hide away all the things you hate about yourself
Did you grow up thinking a tube of cheap gloss
would make your self esteem increase by leaps and bounds
Did you grow up thinking that learning how to apply mascara
would make you the pretty woman you deserve to feel like
Did you grow up thinking a size zero on that dress
would make you feel like you have it all?
Or did you grow up asking yourself
When will I start accepting me, for me?
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 5:35 AM UTC
Red parking sign
Car in a lie
Man in step
Here, we once wept
Rolling down the road
Got nowhere else to go
Silver wheel fantasy
Baby, make me believe
Whispering nineteen
Beneath the silver screen
Her button nose wiggled
As the stars outside wrinkled
Fresh air reflects the sunsets arm's
I swear I don't mean any harm
Lost in the street where no one goes
Screeching North - the home of the black crows
Golden lace and lavender perfume
Plaintive stares from battling cartoons
I picture of a man sits in front of me
He stares behind me where it is free
Blackball corner pocket with hints of Pinot
Everyone has the chance to become their own wino
Heaven hangs above our heads like a child's toy
When did God become so ********* coy?
I play dead in the current of the river
Waiting for no one to claim me the winner
A fresh start is a promise no one can fulfill
On the window rests a blue bottles of pills
Libraries are burning
The volcanoes are yearning
For a sacrificial lamb
Who can't write their name in the sand
That tiny room of yours
Painted yellow and mold
Seagulls outside the window
Chewing on starfish sinew
Shout at that pearly fingernail moon
And whistle your favorite ***** tune
Hold that knife close tonight
I got a feeling nothing ain't right
Over the bridge onto a barren highway
All I can see are flashing red lights parting
Tops down in fifth gear with a suicide case
Rolling her fingers over a thing of a mace
Liquified fear vanishes from the shirt shot
I tell you, some happiness can be bought
The streets are clashing in a cultural battle of bass
The ****** can only keep up with this pace
We are the wounded creations of a battleground
Caught between bullets and mortar rounds
Interest stirs underneath our feet like an earthquake
Shrugging, not giving a **** if we make a mistake
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 8:07 PM UTC
My body imprisons liquor
creating a shelter for it's
greatest admirer,
because the emptiness of my reasoning
cannot relate to those who were given swelling hearts,
because my heart was created to expire.
And all of the places I retire to
will not be like the night
when all the light was liquified.
This is my ode to severance
and my ode to sesame chicken,
and my ode to walking on a frigid evening.
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 3:50 AM UTC
Love me for who I am
Skim milk skin with
Pink floating in
Coppertone hair and
Trident gum snap
Wax figure hands riddled with blue snake veins
Crushed broken toes and
A metal belly button
Liquified speech
And self important bangs
Long eyed glances and
Sun melted shoulders.
Love me for what I am.
No one will be the wiser
Sep 30, 2012
Sep 30, 2012 at 10:28 PM UTC