"milliliter" poems
She has given more than blood
And in those sheets the seeds of deceit
Were planted deep
Emptiness spewing from her wrists
Silver gleaming razor crisp
Deeply embedded metal tip
That slashed and ripped
Her pale white skin
She slipped it in
To slide it out
Feeling every metal millimeter
And every maroon milliliter
Till the anemia of death
Was bled dry
Till the crimson
Became crusty brown
The last bath to bleed her of her past
The last question she never asked
Laying silently as she basked
In the calm but clammy haze
Of the last seconds of her last day
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
little droplets of sweat
d
r
i
p
p
i
n
g
out her pores
milliliter
by
milliliter
wishing the words could drip out of her that way
phrase
by
phrase
but instead she runs
runs away from the crashing waves
the pressure of the earth's layers
trying to squish her into a metamorphic rock
she r u n s
to make the sweat, form the muscles, feel the pain
when she can't make anything else
and can't feel everything else
she
r u n s
because the doctors say it will make her happy
and the truth is
millions of milliliters later
it does.
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
in·dom·i·ta·ble/inˈdämitəbəl/
Adjective: Impossible to subdue or defeat:
“indomitable spirit”
-
That was it,
I understood how to win the game now,
I understood that you had to show them
that a milliliter of your blood,
is worth 5.2 liters of theirs.
-
You are superior.
Never trust the hungry,
and never give a penny.
Your success was built by you,
and you alone.
Unfortunately the parasites come with the package.
N.H.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
•••
If the clouds during the clearest skies
Come down and hug me as tight as they can
And whisper, "I don't want to let go."
They would have given me their love.
If I dropped a micro milliliter of water
On the softest grass and something grew and grew
Until he promised,"I'll always protect you."
He would have given me all his love.
If the moon and the sun were to talk
And they shined a secret path way to my future
Where they told me "go, be happy, be free."
They would have given me all their love.
If all of a sudden the Earth started to shake
And I felt myself falling, I'd scream until I found
A steady hand pressed firm against the small of my back,
It would be proof of his love given to me.
If he could sing me a lullaby in my ear
As we both lied next to each other on the floor and
He says in a hushed tone, "kiss me."
He would have given me all his love.
But
If I wait I can see there is no one in sight
I stand, alone, lost within my soul and with
My mind spinning as I crumble and burn
I realize, no one has given me their love tonight.
•••
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 7:12 AM UTC
i may never have
spain or france
but i’ll always have
this
sun bleached
pavement of rt 89
that crawls its way
through tiny towns
over hills
and around
haze kissed
blue water
a tickle
of crisp
cider
wine
swirling
splashing
it all pools together
in my head
terms and types and
flavors
spontaneously fermented
ambient yeast
funky orange wine
geodesic concrete
ducks and geese
and state regulations
i want to take notes
pour drops on
the page
absorb every
milliliter of
information
hold it in my hand
and squeeze
until streams of
honey and pear
citrus and ginger
and every other
golden
unattainable ideal
run through
my hands
until the cold weather climate
native pink catawba
fermenting inside me
turns into something more
than the sum of its
component parts
saying i want it
doesn’t even begin
to cover it
it’s not just want
it's an ache
and the
ache is lust
impure and sticky
trapping itself between
my fingers
the ache is greed
green and trailing
the ache is desire
blue and rolling
the ache is passion
blood red and dripping
the ache
sinks itself
into my skull
like a nail
the antidote
is the very
thing that
caused it
pain and comfort
are both the same
and they come
in an opaque bottle
with a label that says
"made in new york"
so was i
and when i die
i hope i come back
as a cat
on an old man’s
patio or the echo in
a cavernously empty
tasting room
the sediment in
the bottom of your glass
the urge to try
something new
i don’t know what
my future holds
but i know
i’ll always have
this moment
moss on rocks that
have never had a
chance to dry out
water pouring out
of a pipe
in the side of a hill
into my insulated cup
the coldest
purest
most delicious
beverage my
this day
has to offer
i don’t know what
my future holds
but something tells me
i’ll be okay
and i may not have
spain or france
but i’ll always have
today
Jul 30, 2023
Jul 30, 2023 at 10:40 PM UTC
When I bought food today, the guy behind the counter said,
"How's your weekend?" and "Have a good day, Nick."
My response was, "You as well." And I really meant it. I couldn't believe he read Nickolas on my I-card, assumed people call me Nick, (which they do), and called me Nick.
I left and I thought to myself, "I'm like him."
I love connecting with people. I want to not be afraid to talk personally with people who I don't know personally. I just want to dive in.
I want to read nametags and after the wonderful young lady at Starbucks gives me my change for my Grande Caramel Machiato, I'd say, "Thanks Sara. Have a great day". She might look at me and say "Thanks! You as well! :)" Or she might say, "Thanks...you too o_O"
Does it matter?
When you give someone your love, even if it's just a milliliter, especially if it's just a milliliter, do they have to like it? Do they have to reciprocate it?
Do those people who always smile and are full of love prefer their lovees to be put off by their kindness, making the lover superior because they have more love than the lovee could ever imagine?
It's just that love has to be selfish. There must be something to gain.
I love people and I never got out of that phase of when you're a child and you think everyone is perfect and they know what they're doing.
See, I cognitively now realize that people are just as lost as me, but emotionally, I feel that everyone else is on a level above me and I am a few levels down. In terms of how much love I deserve, how much attention I deserve.
I love seeing other people happy. But me? I could do without it. It's immaterial.
So when other people love, it's lovey love, it's happiness love, it's the love that's in the air, the love that makes you hold open doors, the love that makes you human.
When I love, it's the love that makes you write letters, the love that's begging for attention, looking for approval, trying to dominate others, trying to be human.
I want to be just like you. If I could treat myself how I treat you, I might be happier.
You can love something and not care about taking care of it. You can love something and let it go. You can love yourself and let yourself go.
It's really bad but I want to share this with others because my artwork might help someone someday and it helps me and that's cool, but knowing that everything I produce might someday make someone's life better even if it's just for one second, then it's worth it. It's extremely worth it.
So I want to be like that guy who works at that place. Someone who cares. And underneath all of that "I deserve way less than other people" emotional nonsense that plagues my neurons, I am.
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 6:26 PM UTC
We can cry rivers,
Sweat buckets,
But never add an ounce
To the earth's volume.
We can salivate over ***
Express our fluids of desire,
But we'll not add a milliliter.
Jesus knew this so well:
Don't worry!
So spend tears of joy;
Embrace the sweat of work and sun,
Cleanse our bodies,
Accept the known and unknown,
For we'll not add one day
Fretting and pacing
Over our human condition.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 10:50 AM UTC