"moisturize" poems
I sat on the edge of the bed.
You smiled.
I am your daughter,
But words mean to you
Something else.
I took your hand,
Telling you I haven’t slept for a year.
I write reflections,
Tame the voices behind my left ear,
Assemble thoughts about the darkness.
I pour a warm, salty liquid
That burns the skin – it doesn’t moisturize.
It helps me,
This pseudo-therapy.
I hide behind my nickname,
So that no one holds me accountable
For what I’m supposed to be.
You also sat up at night,
You read books.
You carried hidden sadness,
I stick a smile on my lips.
I hug people who carry Egregores.
You and I,
we are not afraid of the night.
Your hand is cold.
You smile,
You put together syllables into strange words.
You know that I matter to you.
I pretend to understand
What you wanted to say.
In a moment, it will get hard.
You’ll start screaming like a little boy,
Or again you’ll wait
Until this state of life passes you.
Life?
It’s a kind of space
Where people, because of fear
Bite and scratch
Like frightened, rabid dogs –
And then soothe it
With controlled tenderness.
I sit with you on the edge of the couch
And I think:
We write with the left hand.
We are beings of the night.
Our path was shared –
In fear, to protect a small piece of “I”.
I fear I’ll lose language.
I desperately defend myself against silence.
I dream of non-human languages.
I write words as if I wanted
To cast spells on reality –
Still, it’s not enough.
The anesthesia stopped working.
One day, this will be the end,
Yet as long as I live,
I’ll be the naive one.
That’s what I want.
I choose sweet, sugar-coated hope,
With pink sprinkles,
Telling myself that he, she
Didn’t mean to trample –
Only life pushed them
Into that dark corridor.
My hope
Is not a soft blanket,
This is a heavy, tight helmet.
Aug 7, 2025
Aug 7, 2025 at 5:30 AM UTC
Thank God for breath
Brush teeth
Pray
Shower
Think of you.
Moisturize
Eat
Take vitamins
Pray again
Think of you.
Text
Practice French
Walk
Current events
Think of you.
Bus
E or J
Hello poetry
Emails
Think of you.
You color the banal
therefore, I
Think of you.
+crowned saint
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 4:27 AM UTC
Please, oh please
can you spare a drop
of the liquid flowing through you,
dripping down your sweet ****
I am quite parched
I’ve been barren for months
Please can I drink in
your billowy lumps?
Pour into my crevasse
Make me bloom with life
Moisturize the cracks I’ve earned
from loneliness and strife
I’m a desolate island
desperate for nature’s touch
but too far from land
for one shower to be enough
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 4:55 PM UTC
~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~
1. Take care of your teeth and gums
Brush & floss, everyday (Seriously)
Keep your teeth, if at all possible.
They are your very own precious Ivory.
~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~
2. a. Eat well. Do not deny your body
nourishment. Gals, you will want a nice
set of ***** Trust me...eat.
b, Try to not put on too much extra weight.
(no judgement here) Just that it is very
hard on your body. Ridiculously
difficult to lose when you're older.
~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~
3. Love the skin you live within. Try not to
bake your bareness too long in the sun,
or burn your precious epidermis.
Cleanse, exfoliate. Most of all, drink plenty of water and moisturize, moisturize, moisturize
~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~
4. Hang on to all of your bones.
You will miss them when they are gone
Take care of your hands, neck, hips and knees.
Once your joints wear out, it's a total ******
~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~
5. Keep movin' and groovin'.
If you stay still too long, you will get stuck
~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~
6. Find the humor in everything. It is there!
All of life's lessons placed before you.
When all else fails, you can laugh about it.
(Trust Me. Your going to need this one)
~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~
~Christi Michaels~May 2015~
Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 4:38 AM UTC
i wear my religion like i wear my makeup.
i put it on when i’m suppose to.
my face shines with the highlight
of the Holy Spirit on my cheekbones.
lipstick stains a bible verse which
i use for every circumstance
“God” throws at me.
i line my eyes with the blackness
of my heart and i let “God” flick it
out into a wing at the end.
after awhile though my skin
grows weary and itchy.
i can feel every pound of makeup
that cakes my face.
a single wet wipe no longer
works to dislodge the
uncomfortableness
in my pores.
i bathe in rose-scented oils
and steam my face
ritually.
everything is off.
my flaws are showing.
makeup use to be fun
when i wasn’t wearing it
for other people.
now social media lets me know
that i must contour my cheeks
with a prayer that starts with,
“dear lord,” and ends
with, “amen.”
in order to be in my family’s good
graces i must have faith in
myself but
mustn’t be prideful.
you must not use a mirror to put your makeup on.
your eyebrows should be
arched and ready to
defend,
not yourself,
but “God”
if questioned.
when you find a boy
who says he likes makeup
you must not pursue him.
he is not worthy of your highlighted face.
love yourself but
also put your
makeup first.
sculpt the nose
define the face
overline the lips.
do all that you can
to hide your real face.
make your skin scream
to be let free.
and when you take
your makeup off,
make sure to
moisturize
because your skin
has to look great when
it is drowning in
foundation.
take care of your skin
but it also doesn’t matter
so paint your face once more.
bat your eyes.
pout your lips.
but don’t be lustful.
because your religion is like your makeup...
so cake it on like a fake facade.
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 12:37 PM UTC
Why are there entire cities to drain,
When Somewhere in my village,
People are dying for a drop of rain
Coming from a cave through a seepage?
Why are many places flooded elsewhere
When the drought there is constant
And People are struggling everywhere
To moisturize the soil just to plant?
Why are young Maasai men digging
For hours Into the patched African soil
Searching way into the humid evening
For a drop of water, they have to toil?
Why did nature leave my playground arid
When she rains down billions of liters in Texas?
Streetlights, no lights, drought at the power grid,
Scolding of nature is the caveat of the water crisis.
Why did God give us diamonds and gold,
How can he bless us with an abundance of minerals?
Then seal up the skies and put the rains on hold?
Turning the crisis to a vulture's feast and human funerals.
#IvanBrooksPoetry©️
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 2:27 PM UTC
I wanna wisk you away to a Tropical Paradox
Run a Risk filled Forest Gump Chocolate Box
Wear your flip flops and your Crocs with Socks
We’re all in the matrix , so don’t give any Focks
Where if someone talks **** tell em to lick Rocks
Roosters tend to grow hard just like Fort Knocks
Soak up that Vitamin D while you ride for free
Try and hide those lies, while you Moisturize
Shampoo & condition me, with Pantene Pro V
Face mask your cries, with a Creamy Disguise
Throw me 21 salutes, I’ll catch them 22 times
Even a group of mutes, feel my spoken rhymes
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC
Have you ever scooched so far down in a chair
That you’re not really sitting on the chair anymore
You’re just kind of holding on by your elbows?
That’s like my life right now
It’s a metaphor
And I mean don’t worry, I have strong elbows
I’ve fallen a lot in my life
And I don’t really moisturize there so the skin is pretty dry and has a lot of friction
So I don’t think I’m going to fall off any time soon.
The thing is though if you’ve ever been that low in a chair
Have you?
You can’t really just push yourself back up
There’s nothing to grab on to
Your upper arm is fully extended all the time
So if you want out of that situation you have to sit all the way down
On the floor and then turn around and get up
The thing is, the chair, is a metaphor for my life
And I don’t really want to go down any further to get back up
I don’t want to see what’s down there
I kind of just wish someone would come up behind me
You know a bystander, friend, family member, girlfriend, wife
Grab me by the arm pits and pull me back onto the chair
Then I can stand up on my own from there
I want to stand up on my own, I’m a grown man I have the strength to stand
I’m just metaphorically hanging on by my elbows
To this metaphor chair and I just need a real person
To metaphorically pick me up by my arm pits
And I’ve let you in now on the metaphor part
So it’s probably time I tell you about the literal reason
That I’m in this metaphorically precarious situation
But before I do one more thing
The chair, the metaphor, it’s an office chair on wheels
So you know, when I tell you why I’m scooched down so far you can’t cry
If you cry the ground will get wet and the chair might slip
Or it’s been a bit hot so it might steam and get moisture under my elbow
I might slide off so you can’t cry
It’s super important you don’t clap too hard either,
The vibrations might roll the chair away and I’d fall on the ground
I’m only hanging on by my elbows
So anyway here we go the literal reason
I’m serious though you can’t react too much or I might fall
So please keep your reactions internal for me
Can I count on you?
Can I?
Are you sure?
Okay here goes.
The reason I’m hanging on by my elbows on this chair is
You know what
You’re right,
I shouldn’t risk it.
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 4:40 AM UTC
I heard Peter Piper picked a pricey pepper, the same day I heard he got chased down by a hungry mob of less than lovely lepers, now Peter Piper and his picked pepper are prodded by hot pokers while a village of now happy, hairless, horrifyingly lipless lepers salivate in anticipation of poor Peter Piper's soon to be pickled body.
The Masses chant and cheer to sounds of Peter's screams that seem to season his sizzling skin as children scrape scolding scraps peeling from his searing kneecaps.
Veins build up pressure, veins then rupture, veins open and spray onto the crowd and moisturize all the rough textures, soaked faces gain weight and fall off exposing maggots that festered, excited crowds jump and cheer as their knees buckle and bodies fracture.
The elder ***** picks a peck of pickled Peter Piper, now the elder ***** enjoys a pepper with a peck of old Peter Piper.
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 4:14 PM UTC
Tell yourself to reach
one last time
stretch your arms
in one last fight
because the truth is
you can do it
as the wind sets in
blowing up the dust again
Breath it in
and as it cakes in your throat
Never stop screaming
and never stop trying
Let the tears roll down
and moisturize the pain
It will become easier to bare
Never let yourself
turn into the dust
that so eagerly
tries to consume you
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 8:01 PM UTC
It's okay to say no.
You're more attractive than you tell everyone you think you are.
Always moisturize directly after showering.
Never forget a lantern when camping.
Brown eyeshadow during the day makes you look slutty.
You don't need to flirt with everyone.
Don't assume all men are the same. Just because one made a mistake doesn't mean another will make the same one. Just because one does something wonderful doesn't mean another will do the same.
Never shop hungry or unhappy.
I write bad poetry when I'm sad. I write good poetry about being sad when I'm content.
Matching ******* and bra makes for a good day.
Talking to him makes everything better.
He is a lot more trustworthy than you think he is.
It's okay to want to be alone for a while.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 9:24 PM UTC
i have no idea why
i moisturize my lips.
maybe because in the back of my mind
i think that someone very attractive
will randomly come up and kiss me
but instead
its been a month
or more
and no one has
yet to kiss me
**plus my lip balm
is almost gone**
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 9:37 PM UTC
You inspire all people
with words using
so touchable.
They dance and sway
into the crowd.
They penetrate your pores.
Moisturize your skin.
Feeling so alive
deep within.
Touch your heart.
A beautiful sin.
Like an old soul.
With a poetic spirit.
Love his poem.
"The self portrait"
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 5:48 PM UTC
Despite the surf conditions
I am going in, I am having the
last splash of the summer,
That’s filled with swimming,
the fragrance of the sunscreen,
and the laughter of the playing children
Despite the rolling of the thunder vikings
The dance of those umbrellas,
to the musical sound of the wind
I am going in,
The sea and salty breeze,
Would no longer moisturize my face,
The sand would no longer, tickle my toes
and soon the frigid winter chill will swallow us whole
Leaving the sandy beaches, completely deserted
With the remains of dead Sanderlings birds on the shore
and no more three-toed imprints left behind for us to enjoy.
so, I am going in the water
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
Slick with self preservation,
I moisturize away the blemishes.
Night masks alone in the apartment.
Mane too long they dampen
Dark lines on dark skin, strands
stick to me blacker than kajal.
I’ll shower in the morning.
Grabbing at the extra, cupping
Slapping and ******* it in.
I’m so much when i think
I’m not enough.
Wrapping it in lace,
hug where it goes in
Abnormal hourglass,
I turn around to examine
The lightning storm around my
thunder thighs too thick to gap,
Just a small wineglass
Under a coarse tangle.
“Need to workout again.”
Dimples press and flatten,
Tattoos jiggle and beckon.
The hairs on my legs are fine
stand straight in the cold
My feet are sort of dry,
I dip them in cream
And slip on soft socks I could
Never wear in sleep,
I think of a silly dream
where I’m blonde and very thin
Like the best friend
Of every man I’ve ever been with
The one they crush(ed)
on only just a little-
but that was a long time ago.
Such a funny pattern,
Such a common trend.
I wonder if I’m meant to
bring myself to that.
But to change so quickly-
I’d rather be fat,
dark and dead.
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 9:45 PM UTC
This pumice really rubs me the wrong way.
Matadors moisturize with oil of ole.
Heidegger has moves like Jagger.
Any critic - Jaeger; Typhoid Mary - plaguer.
Who's the top chef that goes derpa derp derp?
Wyatt Earp.
I'll drain the swamp like Dagobah's.
A Clovis Person. Legolas.
The nipple's best on chicken breast.
Pin that on your Pinterest. To show all the dispossesed.
Witness Godwin's Law at work:
****** you're a ****
Pick up the phone and call Cthulu.
Get hung up on by Shaka Zulu.
Chalupa mis huevos, says the chihuahua.
Hey Tarzan. Ungawa.
Jesus walked across Titicaca.
Crane thinks the Bridge is over.
Biddy bah bah.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 12:43 AM UTC
~
infinitude (noun): the state, the quality of being without limit, infinite
~
drew first breath, woken to the heart’s rpm thankless task,
conscious aware, that solved proofs deny infinitude,
yet, triumvirate of five senses, brain waving,
a steadying thumping heart,
all asking why not?
can I will it?
the body’s parts convene, debating furious, some claiming
a sell-by-date cellular programmed, nothing to be done,
dimming of the day, a human necessity, the self-salvaging process
but a single cell, a mouse-sized squeaker, boldface stuns,
*”feed me, moisturize, give me sleep + blue blood nourishment,
I’m good to go in a forever Iditarod!”*
the others ashamed of their festival of fear, knowing well
what has gone before, dreaming thoughts of infinitude, go silent,
while “why not?”
lingers in the lungs, the breathable shared, atmosphere,
the senses spread the quest to every remote province,
with each continuing a chant grows ever louder,
a millennium of poems concealed, yet awaiting conception,
all entitled,
“why not”reverberating.
<+>
7:36am 2022020
nyc everywhere
Feb 8, 2020
Feb 8, 2020 at 3:23 PM UTC
A well-groomed matador José
Liked to moisturize with Oil of Olay
His hands lost their grip
The cape it did slip
He was gored as he cried out "¡Olé!"
Oct 25, 2019
Oct 25, 2019 at 1:06 PM UTC
*if i ate a
flower
seed,*
they say
*would i be
as beautiful
inside
as the flower
that grew
within me?*
they ask
and so i took
a flower seed,
popped it into
my mouth and
drank water to
moisturize it
everyday.
i felt it grow
and grow,
i felt a leaf
slipping
between the
hollows of
my ribcage.
i felt it
cradle my
lungs, a
perfect
description
of a hopeless
romantic tied
to its lover.
on one
unfortunate
day, however,
the vines
got hold
of my beating
heart too tightly.
i gasped
for air as the
flower ******
the life out of
me, but it
continued
to bloom
without a care
of my soul.
and there i lay,
motionless, dead
as the flower
blossomed
out of my opened
chest, making me
beautiful
inside out.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 7:42 AM UTC
The bathroom is white
And bright like heaven.
I fill the tub with Epsom salts, bubbles,
Some essential oils
(emotional vaccination),
And bless the water like a priest.
Then I disrobe,
Fold my arms and dip myself in,
hair weighing me down.
The water is womb-temperature.
I float a little. I think about why I’m here.
I ask God
But the tiled walls
And the shower curtain
Don’t answer.
Then I rise,
put my robe back on, moisturize
So that I’m like a baby again,
And go about my night,
Helpless, teary-eyed,
Begging to be held.
Aug 5, 2020
Aug 5, 2020 at 8:39 PM UTC
Why...why do you look at me the way you do...
Disgust or disgrace...my mind wonders...
Though I liquidate my thoughts with the adult beverages of liquidity....expanding on what an adulterous may or may not be...
My soul grows like a rose beautiful but with pain that pertrudes from the stems of my very existence...
Shall I wilt? Or grow to a branch towards that which is called ecstasy...
Let my pedals wrap you in love and everlasting passion, all the while catch your moist dew that exudes from your ****** curvature...
Let my thorns remind you of the pain I once had from a stem of growth I previously had, so so sad...
Can this grow? Or can the soon to be a wilted soul gaze at the sun that glows with the rays of that which once grown to an imaginative fantasy, though a playful bliss of my imagination...
I yearn to farm such a harvest of bountiful happiness, though the crops seen to cultivate thoughts that once produced wetness on its skin that would moisturize the essence this isnt mine...
I'm still growing...whether it wilt or it flourishes, this garden won't be edaness, yet happy...
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
.
.
.
I moisturize the dirt
and start the seed
on it's journey to greatness
then when it's ready
I will transplant it
into a bigger ***
months go by
until days get shorter
and the ground starts to frost
just before that, I take it up by the roots
and hang it to dry
for 7-8 days
then I put some of it in my pipe
strike a flame to it
and burn it to ash
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 12:08 AM UTC
No know sense of infinitude (asking why not?)
~
noun: the state, the quality of being without limit, infinite
drew first breath, woken to the heart’s thankless task,
conscious aware, that the solved proofs deny infinitude,
yet, triumvirate of five senses, brain waving, a steadying thumping heart,
all asking why not?
can I will it?
the body’s parts convene, debating furious, some claiming
a sell-by-date cellular programmed, nothing to be done,
dimming of the day, a human necessity, the self-salvaging process
but a single cell, a mouse-sized squeaker, boldface stuns,
”feed me, moisturize, give me sleep + blue blood nourishment,”
the others ashamed of their festival of fear, knowing well
what has gone before, thought dreaming of infinitude, go silent,
while “why not?”
lingers in the lungs, the breathable atmosphere,
the senses spread the quest to every remote province,
with each continuing a chant grows ever louder,
a millennium of poems concealed, yet awaiting conception,
all entitled
“why not”reverberating.
<+>
7:36am 2022020
nyc everywhere
Feb 2, 2020
Feb 2, 2020 at 7:43 AM UTC