"tearducts" poems
floating like the planets
our mouths twitch and our teeth
shine like venus
the love goddess hangs alone in space
light screams in the skies
end this venusian nightmare
and we admire the beauty of her desperate plea
marveling at how bright she is
brighter than our smartphones and
the dim reflection of the limelight in our eyes
our own citrus dreams tangy
with the kisses born in tearducts
and lit up by the cries of venus
please
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
I meekly rummage through my purse
Looking for my tangled earpHones
The sweet sounds of guitar and synth fill my ear
As we pass Eglinton West
I wait for the last minute of the song
Where I maximize the volume
Just to hear the faint bass in the ocean of noise
Like my pastel jelly fish amongst navy blue
Stinging my tearducts with poison
Is your bass
That romantic tune forever ringing in my ears
Like your breathe down my back
Like your eyelash on my cheek
Like your fingers in my hair
The same that pluck that bass
Cascading ******** sound waves through my tired mind, romantic heart
I put your bass away, back in my purse
And walk the streets of my city
Where I see you everywhere
You can't be put away neatly in my subconscious
You're their bassist,
But most of all,
You're my front man.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC
My niece turned 7 today.
I look at her pictures, and she is a beautiful
Little girl,
A child,
Just a kid.
She is innocent, pure, and beaming with light
Glowing with a future of brightness.
And see I look at this picture
Of 7 year old me
And I am corrupt-
Grown up, wasted,
Not a kid anymore.
My innocence was taken from me
And my future was only ever darkness.
See cause I just can't picture my sweet little niece
As not a ******
I can't imagine her naked child body as anything
But sacred and untouched.
But I remember praying to God
That I wouldn't burn in hell
Cause I was the only little girl in Sunday school
That Jesus didn't want for a sunbeam.
And I remember my naked child body
Raw, and pulsing with pain,
Aching with what I couldn't understand.
I can't imagine her smiling baby teeth
Open up and swallow poison
As a 5 year old suicide attempt
Like I did at that age.
Sometimes the flashbacks sneak out my tearducts
And roll down my face,
And I feel like I'm 7 again.
But I just can't imagine her feeling that way.
And I just want her to be my baby niece forever,
Even though I know I can't protect her.
She wrote a love note to a boy in class
That read, "Do you want to kiss me?
Circle yes or no."
Her mom thought it was cute.
But all I could think of
Was my first French kiss;
Slimy, sloppy kid tongues-
And I just have to stop right there.
I always wished she'd stay 6 forever,
So she never has to grow up like I did.
Cause 7-year-olds should be children,
Not ******
Not like me.
I can't imagine hickeys on her neck,
Bruises on her thighs,
Or cuts on her wrists.
When I picture her as a young woman
I don't see scars-
But the same bright future,
The same radiant smile (only with big-girl teeth.)
When I picture her as my age,
I hope the skeletons in her closet
Are sneaking out at night and lying in the morning.
I hope she has the innocent kind of fun.
And if anyone tries to take herself from her-
I will *******
**** them.**
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC
the rain drowned us.
it was in the depth of the afternoon,
on a sudden early summer,
a sad four pm that cradled us
when the rain started to pour
from its tearducts.
just when there was no place,
may it be in the heart of the garden
or a small hut out in the ruins of a parking lot,
we were, at the nudes and naked, nowhere.
but the rain stopped
but no, no creeping sun
and when the clouds cleared up
and our thoughts all silenced up,
it was us on an idle bench
which was somewhat wet and damp
from the light rain;
we were nowhere.
the rain drowned us.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC
Sweet as the pantries,
She basked herself in a fanciful coating of clothes and accessories,
Longing to find what she termed her "Identity" in her self-proclaimed journey of seeking Truth.
Basing herself upon these coatings,
The sweetness, the addictive tone of hanging on to the securities of being visually appealing had been the sole thought harnessed in her underutilized mind.
"What should I wear?" "Am I looking too ugly in this?".... undisclosed, subtle yet toxic cycle of thoughts kept protruding from the braincentre.
Things unkempt, bottles scattered over the floor, food wrappers uncleaned....she continued glorifying herself with her trance-like state of consciousness: Calling it "Nirvana" as she glanced over her new list of Boy-friends on Facebook.
While ignoring being a pejoratory display to others, she went on profusely with her self-consuming obssession on "Beautification"....with few occassions of gaining a few disapproving glints of nostalgia from her used-to-be down-to-earth mates.
****** Her work was disorganized, she was casted out from the team she used to collaborate with on a Science project, and became merely an alluring visual representation for pack of hungry alpha wolves.
Disintegration, down to the floor her teardrops were drained from her tearducts as she pushed every bottle of her exclusive make-up products away. "Useless, worthless...."the self-degenerating dictionary of vocabulary swarmed her psyche, attacking every single optimistic living cell in her.
Few days had passed when she found herself sleeping on the cold, hard, unrelenting floor. With a slow recovering stance, she gets up with the final thought of taking a chocolate bar for sugar.
Now she is a healthy, spiritual woman committed in empowering others to find their true identity
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 4:34 AM UTC
There are a million and one,
rainstorms, tucked neatly into those tearducts
enveloped in those beautiful eyes of yours,
didn't anyone ever tell you, love,
its okay to cry.
So let those rainstorms fall,
lace your cheeks and tumble gently over your pursed lips.
There's beauty in the break down,
There's beauty in this,
Moment of vulnerability,
Unfamiliarity,
And there will be clarity,
Once your storms have been exhausted,
And the sun will rise again,
In those eyes.
So darling sit and pull yourself close,
Let those liquid droplets,
Drown you in your clothes,
For i promise you will float.
Pull your knees in tight,
Cuddle up in your own embrace,
And allow those weighty storms,
To trickle down your face.
Feel free to whimper and maybe ask why,
Sweetheart, its perfectly okay to be hurt, be vulnerable, to cry.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 6:50 AM UTC
~
come sit with me
i'll tell you secrets
secrets buried in the
far side of the moon
like how your name and mine
and the word 'love'
have two vowels
for a special reason
how words like
'heaven' and 'chrysanthemum'
cannot be spelled without
your name in them
how that smile of yours
could abate the void of
a thousand galaxies
and how everytime i make
a vague outline of my soul
i end up with a picture of you
come sit with me
how sometimes i wished
i was a crocodile
so i had no tearducts
or a earthworm
so i would have five hearts,
you could break them all
and i'd still not cry
how i could spend eternities
interpreting abstract in the
neverending brown of your eyes
or writing love poems at the
back of your palms
as march unfolds like a mayflower
this thursday feels like
a delectable dream
a dream that belongs only to us
come sit with me
come sit with me
~
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 7:43 AM UTC
I want to write about being crushed
Like something sat down on my chest
No one will ever read this
But I have to let this out
When I am around people I am happy
Because I love them
I want them not to worry
Please don't leave me alone
I am alone now....
Rather than one heart break that will heal
I have a perpetually breaking heart
Maybe there is nothing sitting on me
Maybe my chest collapsed
Someone probably beat me to death
That would be lovely
Death by blunt object to the lungs
Baseball bat mayhaps?
Depression is a crushing thing
Devastating
Irrational
Fleeting
It comes to stay a few days or a week
Then leaves much later than intended
Please don't leave me
I don't want to be alone
This silence stifles my thoughts
The emptiness causes my tearducts to weep
At night I slumber
Wishing to be held
Maybe, there's that word again, maybe someday
If I am very lucky
This sadness that crushes will fade I know
But each and every time
It takes longer to go
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
I can't tell where the sound of my lungs end and my heartbeat starts.
They blur together similarly to how his body and mine are entangled under the layers of blankets. From another perspective, no one knows who is who and what is what.
My lungs are so disappointed in me. I breathe in nicotine more often than I should.
I've poisoned my veins and liver with cheap *****
My eyes have grown sullen and heavy. Dark bags have found refuge under my tearducts.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 6:13 AM UTC
Down in the valley of the fleeting stream,
Parched Syrian tongues are crying aloud,
Below, below, the sacred river
Where war took away my sweetheart.
She was bright, now she is blue,
Like the cataracts dividing the stream,
And the tearducts dividing my eyes,
Below, below, the sacred river
Where war took away my sweetheart,
Torn in our tumult
From the bleak parade,
Starve we all like her delicate face,
Now forever blemished.
Therefore let us dine on hardtack!
Suffer for the things of the marble world;
Fast along the toiling road,
To the land of reward, we go.
I compared her to a flower:
The fairest fragrance ever conceived;
To think her smile is a nest for ants,
Below, below, the sacred river
Where death took away my sweetheart.
Alone I sit, I weep,
My face is clenched by nightingales;
A country stained by grief,
At night, I hear their biting wails
From ill-wrought molten blades,
Alike to man and woman;
How can I reason fate away
By crying o'er her *****
Change these feelings about me!
I am eager to see her again,
But I won't obey the winds
Above, above the sacred river—
As far as the fragrance is concerned.
No more mourning in silence!
Turn your plowshares into swords,
Let the weak say, "I am strong";
We may yet have the final word,
Before the vanguard departs this world.
Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 2:50 PM UTC
how does the water from my tearducts find
comfort
upon my cheek?
i collect a silhouette through which i
can’t
speak
heartbeats in my
chest and
mind
I hold a gaping sentiment i can’t find
within
my brain
am i but
blind?
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 10:32 PM UTC
This endless cycle of ups
This endless cycle of downs
Once it breaks you out of these cuffs
Only to realise, you're the only one that drowns
You sense movement in your tearducts
From time to time, it shocks as it's warm
Meaning to let you down with waves of floods
Overwhelming you, before you resort to harm
Letting your eyes cough once more
Eroding the sandman's architecture
Which of them was left by which sore?
You ask while once again you lose all texture
So the vicious cycle can begin again
Building up to another main event
Over and over and over, my friend
Just when the **** will this ******* end
Seemingly calming now, I thought
The sun looks to be shining on this lord of cinder
But I need to find another siren to float
The next will drag me down in a different manner
But if it goes as far as to hold me,
I don't think it will matter
I'm cold, can you help me?
Give me another chance to flee
To see this wasn't all for no reason
Tell me this knowledge will elevate me
Otherwise fall might be my favorite season
Jun 25, 2019
Jun 25, 2019 at 7:51 AM UTC