"septum" poems
we are sitting on the riverside
we smoke cigarettes
the smell still reminds me of you
your smile brings back so many memories
your septum piercing is kinda oblique
i want to touch it while we kissing
that’s not much to ask
you probably taste like red wine and marlboro
i wish we would did this earlier
the background music has changed
some current joys playing on your phone
remember darling, we danced to that song
but if you don’t remember anything
i can tell you what we did
while we were drunk
Aug 19, 2020
Aug 19, 2020 at 6:19 PM UTC
I pierced my septum
with a magic bullet.
Is Texas really the reason
the president’s dead?
I’d give anything for a scotch
despite never having had one.
I loaded my gun with Pall Malls
and shot my brother dead in the woods.
That son of a ***** is the Able
to my Cain,
the scissors to my paper.
Pap has no son.
**** Huckleberry,
lying piece of ****
I scratched my *** with steel wool.
I drew blood,
(in pencil haw haw)
I’m tired,
despite being well-rested.
I ****** everyone in Gomorrah
over spring break.
Add salt to my pillar.
And you say I’m *******
immature.
Get loaded
in Bozeman.
I hate that you hate me.
The KKK wasn’t
this spiteful.
Dying on a burning cross,
I confess my sins
to Richard Dreyfuss
and ********* on
Judas.
He wipes it off
with the Shroud of Turin
but the streak is still there.
I sold my brand and licensing rights
for thirty pieces of silver.
I ******* came on Judas.
I never did anything to you
that you didn’t do to me.
My dad is bigger than
yours.
I’d abort myself
just to get a reaction.
I’m going to hell,
but at least I’ll finally eat
at the cool kids’ table.
I’m done fighting
with people I don’t speak to.
So how about you just hit me,
you just
*******
hit
me.
I’ll launch into whatever the **** I want.
I’ll ******* SOAR,
like a ********* 747,
I’ll **** birds into my engines
and spray their guts wherever
I please,
because I’m finally done being manipulated.
**** I don’t think
I even started.
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 10:35 AM UTC
Honeysuckle running deep in nostril's recollection
Wafting nectar dripping in air, please stop
Must stay present, no time for memory swap
Sneaking in, yellowed dreams, desirous confection
O purgatory, keep me still, deviate no such inflection
Causeway flash backing egg yolk, and lemon spectrum
Road lined in runners, speckling scintillation
This loose maddening of honeysuckle titillation
Reverse your tendril's twist, quivers an ungated septum
Covers, green to yellow transitions, honeysuckle bedlam
I cannot dance down this lane for fear of you
Your ringlets curl, clasp, coil me
On such road of alluvial soil I see
How can I? Must I, escape steer of dew?
You're honeysuckle memory of all I knew
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 9:58 AM UTC
This is an ode to my own self love
Because tonight I forgot who I ******* was
I was looking at a profile with the guy i was on a date with and he said that the girl in the picture was pretty and I asked what about her is pretty and as we scrolled through the pictures he said *I like the ones where she looks normal*
And when this ************ meant normal
I knew he meant white
He mean blonde haired, blue eyed, perfect skin and white teeth
And I looked at myself I knew I was none of these things
My skin is not white, neither are my teeth, and they are crooked
Like my skin, which is not flawless, no Beyoncé, I did not wake up flawless
My hair is dark brown, almost black, but that's my natural color
I've been bleaching it blonde since I was twelve
What the **** does that tell you
I got my first two tattoos when I was eighteen
And I saw how the girls face had no piercings
And I looked at my 00 gauges and my septum, cartilage, tragus, and second hole piercings
And I wanted to rip them all off
I wanted to scratch my tattoos off
I wanted to take my hair off
I wanted to rip my skin off
I felt inadequate
I felt like I could never be enough
Well I'm tan and unconventional
So that means I can never be ******* loved
So this is an ode to myself:
Dear Ella,
Look at me,
Thick body, with curves that slay like Beyoncé's
Glasses thick so you can see your own beauty
Lipstick dark like the shade of a ruby
And you don't care
You don't care what anyone thinks because you know you rock it
Your blonde and brown hair is unique, no one else can rock it
Your piercings are a part of you, that's why you ******* chose them
The same thing with the tattoos, girl, that's why you own them
They have meaning to you, they're beautiful to you
So what the **** does what this guy thinks phase you
The way you do your makeup is beautiful,
Your style is beautiful
And every scar on your arm is important to you
So don't pretend that what he thinks is more important than what you do
Love yourself, girl, because without you there would be no you
-E (c) 2017
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 3:45 AM UTC
I'm ruptured whole and am considered
inadequate
as my
amygdala slides through the trachea drops to my ventricles falls through the aorta plunges to my diaphragm hits the esophagus crashes to my phalanges. There is no hope.
May I hold something over your cranium?
May I remind you of your neuron imbalance? And yet
you sit and
watch as
my septum separates from the left atrium from the right ventricle from the bicuspid from the tricuspid from the pulmonary semi-lunar valve.
I love you. (Stupid cerebral cortex.)
I love you. (Imprudent Broca's area.)
I love you. (Hopeless frontal lobe.)
I love your nonfunctional mind and functional soul and
Well
this is all a metaphor for unrequited love.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 9:41 AM UTC
Lost in the club on the way to the bathroom
American dreamless, existed in a vacuum
Every day, another way for us to consume
Raids on the senses, a general consensus
of the senseless, reprehensible amendments
The armaments by the tenements, diffused
Confused, never used, lonely in the fugue
And you
You who assume, presume, eschew the ruin
of the brewing times, rising tides, the lies
and of ties that bind - us to the times
and to meaningless rhymes
By illuminated rooms when the eye blinks
Think, blink, the pink rink - closed
By the hours that be, powers that see
Subversive naturalism
in a state of debate, compensate the reckless
Feckless and dick-less, compost of the senses
The sexes have wrecked us, ****** of the spectrum
By your septum reset them, mind wiped
Iconic lights gone
The new light's on
Right on
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 11:36 AM UTC
“The side of her head is shaved,
isn’t that weird?”
Afraid to admit my attraction,
I nodded in agreement.
And in a low voice
I responded with,
“yeah, weird…”
Yet again he pointed out,
“Look at her septum piercing!
Doesn’t she look like Benny the Bull?”
I looked away. Under my breath
I said, “I think…she’s cute.”
My friend turned
with simpering eyes.
“Really? Cute?
You’re a ****** too.”
I looked up, “I’m not weird.
I just think she’s pretty,
that’s all.”
He scoffed,
“Nah man, you’re really weird.
Tattoos and piercings aren’t attractive,
they’re weird but I guess weirdos
are attracted to other weirdos.
Flustered, I looked up to him.
“So what? Punk rock is pretty.
At least I’m not a pretentious ******* like you.”
And with that, I left him there.
© Matthew Harlovic
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC
It could have been the cigarette hanging from your perfect lips that have me goosebumps or it could have been your jet black hair slicked back in a pompadour style only hipster kids have these days... Not sure really but it sent shivers down my body.
You were the type of boy who liked to drink whiskey and had neck tattoos & I was the type of girl who was more awkward than a turtle.
You had this mystery about you under those dark sunglasses and you were so tall & sleek in that red flannel and black jeans... You were so ... hot
I had this problem where I would just stare until you looked over, which you did, and in turn I would look away blushing with shame.
I took one glance back as I started to walk away and saw you grinning this huge grin with your pearly white teeth and septum ring touching your upper lip.. Pretty sure my heart melted.
You were the guy I had dreamed about at night and I didn't even know your name of course.
Who was I kidding? We would never see each other again.
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 12:38 AM UTC
you're probably
too young for me
or looking for someone else;
a guy with more talent,
and a sense of adventure
or someone with an exotic accent,
who knows?
your purity
and shining blond hair
and quirky sense of style
have me wondering--
did it hurt when they shoved that metal in your nose,
and if you'd do the same to my heart
May 25, 2012
May 25, 2012 at 9:03 PM UTC
In fifty years, all my land
Might be swallowed whole by the glorious ocean
By means of erosion.
See? I do learn things in that concrete prison,
Where they raise concrete children, in a plaster mould
To fit their vision. Aren't I rebellious.
Tell me I'm brilliant, I am the future!
I am all you people's pensions, I choose your nursing home
Give me your money.
I am your investment. If I spend it on *******
That's your risk factor right there. No insurance policies dear.
I am reckless. Aren't I fabulous.
In fifty years, my nasal septum
Could be eroded by means of class A narcotics.
But there's always rhinoplasty.
And I'll be married to a big fat banker,
With comprehensive cover on all of my dreams
I'll divorce him for millions. Ingenious.
I'll be a plastic hollow Barbie,
Dripping with diamonds. I will be everything
That I ever stood against. Sitting
perched between two fingers delicately
The fat rich men will take drags on me
Until I am ashes. Old nicotine.
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC
My phalanges shake under the
Blood red sunset
My heart beats rapidly
In my throat
My nerves consume
Every inch of my flesh
I'm sitting on that bench
Our bench
Outside that little store
Our store
And I'm thinking of you
Dreaming of you
And it's Autumn
And that song you played
Our song
It's stuck in my head
Because I don't think
It ever left
If only there was a way
To avoid this whole situation
Some way to circumvent
Around life
But there's not
And suddenly
I'm distracted by an
Angel
Or the closest thing to it
That I've ever seen
On Earth
Straight purple hair
Pierced septum
Thick black eyeliner
Cuts down her arms
Oceans in her eyes
It's cold
And I'm alone
And I'm waiting for you
And she's there
And my mind is spinning
And my heart drops
And my posterior goes numb
And I swear to God
If you don't hurry up
I'm going to follow her home
Because my mind is
Skidding off the fringes
Of sanity
And my emotions are
Twisting like pretzels
In a bakery
Confused and broken
The girl
That caught my mind
And stole my time
Walks by in slow
Motion
And the reason
That I'm so easily
Obsessed
With her
Is because she did
Something
No one ever
Could
For a few moments
She actually helped me
Forget about you
Oct 17, 2010
Oct 17, 2010 at 5:09 PM UTC
**** you, and **** off. **** me? ohhh you wanna say **** you to me? Well here's a middle finger for you found this **** in my pocket, got it half price at target that is why I bought it. Who knew it would come in handy.
Our relationship is like a deviated septum because one side is always getting more than the other and if you didn't realize, you're the deviated side because no matter how hard I ******* try to give you the oxygen your heart desires, you can't open up to it. You sit and block almost all of yourself off to the world and even off to me and I've only known parts of you. A small wind casting through an open field, this is how I feel. I am the tumbleweed in every boring movie scene, gliding by just so someone will notice me, but essential to essence nonetheless. So **** me right? Well frankly, I'm tired of all this ******* because none of it consists of love making, because I don't actually know how to make love but I sure know how to **** And I find myself writing the same lyrics as Wale, I think this is what rock bottom feels like.. Because :p I :P find :p myself :p more :p content :p with :p being alone than I ever ******* have with someone else. Always stepping on toes or picking up the pieces and it's cool if you're parents are still together and you've seen love like that your whole entire life, but me? I haven't, **** I wish my parents weren't together maybe then I would be able to leave my prison cell of a room. I have seen love ripped from the hinges and thrown to the wind- like ******* Owen Wilson's nose type love. I grew up with that **** but I still love harder than I ever have but you can't tell me that you do the same because this fuckery has been my whole entire life, so I have adjusted.
I have dabbled in alcoholism, and maybe a little drug abuse, but see these apples don't fall far from the tree and misery seems to be the best currency.
So who the **** am I?
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 9:37 AM UTC
incomplete
lost
unscrewed
without a pair
Jan 16, 2020
Jan 16, 2020 at 7:23 AM UTC
ideal porcelain pin)k crease
supple
roots in twaining
correct abstinence
gone rusty septum
thresh brimming
sacrifice;
shattered peace breathe heaving freckles
luscious ocean CraSh! salty teeth on plush shore
make a specific cry blushing shoal
lush ribbon moan so wet you...
May 21, 2010
May 21, 2010 at 1:50 PM UTC
lying on a beach
looking up at the clouds
same idea perched
on both of our mouths,
i am a bird on a window sill
you're a song upon my lips
i will sing you to the trees and hills
and place your hands
upon my hips.
i stole glances at you
as you tried ignoring me
you were focused on the view
and you were all i could see
that night i saw you dancing
you were young, wild, and free,
and tonight i'm not alone,
because you're lying
next to me.
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 7:11 PM UTC
The Forceps on the Skull
The Freedom Down my Throat
The Careless Jaunty Attitude
The Dead boy long Gone
No voice, No mouth, No brain
No Opinion, No Choice, No Thought
The child coaxed in rudiments
The warm fuzz ball of puke
The play-doe reindeer bones
The bandaged up wild wet wagon movie
Throaty
Toe drum octagon
Therapy Slowly
Octopus keymaker
Uh, you don't know me
Grow old in set bone brains
Can't hold a lighter to a memory of a conversation flicker
Septum dust headbutts tattoos of a mirror
**** shiver
What's His Name?
What's His Name?
Slidin’ care home cider casket cycles home
Nun **** jar finds a hair in comb
Hold a Jug up to your speakin’ ear and drink
Run circles round the square
Run circles round the square
Why don't you just do it?
Why don't you just?
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 8:15 AM UTC
i know
a place where
nobody goes,
a place where we
can be free
of our clothes,
we can dance and sing
to the wind where it blows,
a place where the sand
is perfect for toes.
i brought wine and
an ice chest,
speaking of those,
let's both raise a glass,
tonight we're drinking
like pros
we can **** 'neath the moon,
where above us it glows,
me with tattoos,
you with a pierced nose.
May 27, 2012
May 27, 2012 at 7:10 AM UTC
Today at the craft store I saw a tall, septum pierced man
A young man of twenty, who probably drinks beer from a can
His hair black and slicked back, smoking probably his last
For today at least, or the hour perhaps
His mother was there, with afflictions of her own
Outside the dollar store
Ya' know, I used to call one my second home
Back before I was snobby
When finery was a pressure
To be better because I was lagging
Oh, the complex days of elementary school.
Now I don't know where I stand
I've come straight out of the progressive oven of political awareness
I kinda get it now, but too much
My prejudice says "stop"
My anxiety says "turn"
My curiosity flames and the sides of my head burn
'Cause I'll be honest, he's kinda cute
and those judgments aren't mine anymore, so I'll set them loose
Let them all float away, what I have heard
For that kid isn't there anymore
Oh look, a bird.
I wonder what he was thinking,
or was he thinking of me at all?
This is such a long poem.
I wonder if he writes them.
Is he pursuing an education?
Does he eat meat?
Goodness, I'm so ******* weird.
But I'd like to find out, really though.
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 3:35 AM UTC
A milky layer ascended
and your eyes became
opalescent
The fluidity found
within that blue gaze
was trapped under ice
like a mighty river
snared in December
And all I could ask myself
was "Is she alive?"
The colour rushed from your cheeks
From the red of the blood
that dripped from your septum
due to the ivory powder
you inhaled for perfection
and the blacks and the bruise
of lies and deception
to the green of greed
and yellow of attention
You grew pale
like a corpse
under a cool moon
made of melancholy
and miseries
I'll admit, though
I admired your animosity
The way you chose not to care
almost seemed passionate and planned
rather than spun together
by years of defeat
When I finally realized you weren't coming back
I began to panic
My eyes darted over the phone
and my fingers began to dizzy
I struggled to find the nine
that came before the ones
And just when I believed you were gone
when I thought we had lost any hope
you gasped
The shuddering sound you made
as you grabbed onto that last sliver of life
will haunt my nights
for weeks to come
It was all too beautiful
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 2:27 AM UTC
Boiling or freezing
I really can't tell
I just feel uneasy
Is it external or within?
I listen to blues
But it's still no substitute for you.
Admitting it is as difficult as wood,
But deep down you know
I miss you
I don't need you
for pleasure
Cos i know it'll torture.
Just walk by me,
Laugh at me and with me.
When holding on gives you more cuts than hugs
and you dim it feet to run for cure
Always do what's best for you
Though I might bleed
Joy stills flows from my bleeding septum
With the assurance of you being fine.
I ain't the best
am just a little different from the rest.
Choices better exist
for sure
I know your taste
I just talked with fate and He said:
'If you can wait
We'll be great'
We don't need to date
to feel loved
True love
grows from the seed of friendship.
I don't need to posses you to appreciate you.
In all I owe you all,
I wish you the best
Who'll give you rest.
If fate entwines our path
I would love you till forever comes
I would still love you if forever never comes.
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 4:17 PM UTC
Don't name drop ______, they wanna hear your name drop
I know you're ****** off, but that won't make the pain stop
Your friends are in battles too, thats why they pop,
Rethink this, this isn't something you should adopt
They say fight fire with fire, but if life so cold
Where do you find it to inspire and fight the new with the old
Drown out the night
But I can't drown out the knight
In ****** armor on the mic
Mi amor that I spite
Sippin on *** 'n monster hoping I don't go bonkers
Yonkers playing in the background as I ponder
and let my mind wander
Wonder why I'm squandering the time,
I could be making money and conquer
But my psyche doesn't concur, because life is somber
And I stay up thinking I can make the next Midnight Marauders
It's 4 am and I'm wishing life was longer
Eyes set on the calendar because our time is numbered
Thundering white Walter, water drips from the ceiling of my bunker
Bombs bombard it, I'm surprised I'm not drunker off this alter
I'm on a pedistal and my perception has altered
Now my personality has a septum, a couple I can use as fodder
Hopefully I can find a mentor to call me his grasshopper
Much needed like a jumper for this one-dimensional dunker
Drumming up my sadness like it's not like any other
You can throw shade, but I can make your day brighter
I'm a lot of things, but mostly a warhawk with synesthesia.
The sight of my enemies dropping is like symphonies, analgesia.
No mother, no father, your little boy isn't going through schizophrenia
That's just what's needed for me reach euforia
If I cut it up, rinse my face and change it to not seem displaced
I can cut a deal with my friend and maybe get me something laced
Wait, this isn't the time and place, don't be your own disgrace
Grace was your safeguard, no need to kick up the pace
Pacemakers for the worried, just incase
Peacemaker at heart, man I try to embrace
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 2:01 AM UTC
When I first saw you, I thought to myself:
"I really like her septum piercing."
And I told you.
You showed me how you could move it without touching it,
and I thought that was pretty cool.
Then I noticed your face.
Your beautiful, breath taking brown eyes that had the slightest hint of green.
Then I noticed your clothes, and how you carried yourself.
You always looked like you could punch someone if you needed to, but still elegant.
Then I noticed your sense of humor, and your love for drugs.
Then I noticed the scars on your arm.
and I understood.
You were my friend.
You told me you were a model once, and honey, it was obvious.
You are the most beautiful girl I have ever met.
But you never believed me when I told you that.
You never believed anyone.
And maybe if you did, you'd still be here.
If we ever met again, I would make sure you knew.
I would make sure you knew how loved you were, and how amazing you are.
Because maybe if I told you more often,
maybe if you knew, or if we got you help,
just maybe..,
you wouldn't have left.
And just maybe, I wouldn't cry when a train passed my house.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
Sitting quietly at the table, held in place by rusted shackles,
Embracing my bone-like phalanges in death's grip.
At the fringes of my vision, I note a horrid little creature,
Attempting to circumvent the Master's desire to flay me to pieces.
Begging for my life, as he fears dark aloneness in this drear abode.
The septum wall of my heart barely containing my blood,
As it pounds through its chambers, racing to my extremities, only to return once more,
more slowly, to be reinvigorated with vital oxygen again.
Eyes glazing as the Master approaches, demanding why I should be spared,
When I have disobeyed him, sparing that family from death's harsh embrace.
Shaking in this stone cold chair, my posterior aching from hours of discomfort,
I can only beg mercy of a merciless creature, who's only need of me, is absolute obeyance.
My only ability to coax unsuspecting families to relinquish their souls for this foul creatures pleasure.
My heart recognizing how low I have become to continue with this wretched life.
And, finally with the only spark of humanity remaining to me, I scream my defiance,
And as I had hoped, received a final blow, releasing me from this plane.
Oct 17, 2010
Oct 17, 2010 at 4:26 PM UTC
Ring a ring a roses
******* up your noses
atishoo
atishoo
the septum breaks down.
dedicated to all those hard working city boys.
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 4:26 PM UTC
Chandeliers and trimmed trees bring
tears like an ever flowing stream.
Igniting the path to a tragic past
where the moon ceases to beam.
Delicately carving the lines on the
hands that once fed a deal of pleasure
that is of no longer use to me, thank you, my treasure.
Tiptoed to a monastery, with a familiar face
that exceeded my momentum
whom withheld a coin on a string from his septum.
"Buongiorno, buongiorno! From warm descendants!"
treated me with a surplus of respect.
Time will speak, and time has said,
the archangels have failed to resurrect.
Funerals for tales of a tragic past in full cortège, my forever white gold,
Believing time will remain my loyal friend
as long as my foe is the old
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 3:49 AM UTC