"telepathically" poems
Why are you holding back?
If only you could let go...
Hard times would get easier to handle, if you just embrace the natural flow.
I speak to you with a book wide open, from lines that give light to mind. I am on a journey just the same as you are, so not all that I say may be right. And as life goes on, I'll gain more sight, and know that I was wrong. Yet when the feeling comes from the marrow, I know I've held it in too long, and know it is time to write.
Take those kinks out of your head and give life to what was dead and become resurrected. O sister, we connect telepathically, and O brother, I know you know there is something within us that most can not perceive. There is more of us than the grains of sands in the ocean; our hair is like that of the waves upon the sea. Just open your minds eye to who you are, let go and live naturally.
But how can you know if you don't search, tell me how can you remember if you don't seek?
It's time to erase the lies and unshackle the mind to the truth of your own history.
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 7:14 AM UTC
An old angelic poet went flying
one drab and tempestuous night.
Upon the clouds he rested
as the fallen angels were in his sight.
Whence all angel's were together
Serving their mighty God.
Now separated by good and evil
By free will the hellion hadst lost.
Their spaceships were ablazed
And their crown's they wore as king's.
Their wing's we're ivory crystalline
And their thunderous aura like electricity didst ring...
A trace of cherub dust they left behind in the sky
Telepathically knowing, today their wing's shalt fly...
Chorus-
Chariot's roll
Chariot's play
Seraphim riders, in the sky.......
Their countenance unearhtly, their eye's lit
Their batas all drenched by unseen blood.
Their flying hard to get those hellion
But they've lost one of their ship's.
Because it's their duty, to protect the all powerful God
They sweep by force in by million's, with lightning bolts as Rod's.
As the chariot Master's swept by the ghouls
The ghoulies calleth out their names,
The serpahim said to the ghoulies
Go back to hell from whence thou came.
And hellion its to late to changeth thy ways, thou made a bad choice..... So the Hellion's retreated, back to their doom of fiery noise....
Chorus-
Chariot's roll
Chariot's play
Seraphim rider's in the sky,
Serpahim rider's in the sky
Serpahim rider's in the sky......
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
Oh
That laugh
Deep from your core
Uncontrollable outbursts
Fill up the corners of the room
Something truly real surrounding my head
Oh how I need something real
The way you lose yourself in the joy
The sound of happiness
Shuffles it's way through me
Chills run my bones
Nerves a bit queasy from something so new
My lips turn up with a grin
Something so strange is happening to me
What is this stifling emotion
It's weight on my lungs
I fight
And lose
Bubbling up my throat
A sound very similar
Laughter
A forgotten voice
A long lost ability
Contagious you are
Rubbing your filthy joyous self all over me
What is this preposterous habit
I run my hands down my arms
Wiping away this feeling
But
You girl... You.
What are you doing to me
Telepathically rearranging my neurons
With your leaky smiling eyes
And your mouth all open
Head thrown all around
How do you tweak my strings
Pulling my smile out from under the rubble
Warming my heart with those eyes
Burning red are my cheeks
It's like I've forgotten how to feel
And I'm coming to life again
Oh
That laugh
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
I have always loved you.
I imagine us 30 years down the road.
I am massaging your shoulders,
relieving knots.
Life gets me in knots too.
I've put the kettle on
I have my own key now so I come and go as I please
like the old friend I've become.
I feed your cat when you go away at weekends.
Smelling your pillow
Remembering you at 40.
Your dressing table
as I pictured it.
I have my own family now
but I met you 10 years before I met my wife.
I rode the wave of your smile,
came crashing down
the day you announced you'd met someone,
holding out for the real thing.
For; I was just a boy,
what could I deliver apart from newspapers
and the odd dodgy innuendos? you laughed at
tossing your hair.
Humouring me
but,
Never letting on that you cared.
I slip away every second night
when the second hand rests between the 8 and the 9
and it is quarter to 10.
I am on my way to see you.
We play cards and toast a drink into midnight.
Sometimes I reach for your delicately aged hand
twiddling with your rings,
knowing mine would have been the sparkly one.
But not a patch on you.
We lock eyes for around a minute,
My throat is dry.
Telepathically I tell you
I have always loved you.
Whether you are 45 or 75
I will always love you.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
You are God sent
You are a walking church bell and every time you take a step you ring, and I swear even atheists stop what they're doing just to praise you
I look into your eyes and watch as the lamp of your body illuminates your soul and understand what Matthew meant when he said you were full of light
You speak the language of angels and the vibrations of your voice cause me to go so deep into meditation that it causes an imbalance in all 114 of my chakras, and you always wonder why I only speak to you telepathically
Every time our lips meet I go 6,000 years back in time and relive the moment Adam and Eve took a bite out of the forbidden fruit and the taboo taste never fails to be worth it
I know that you're God sent
because you have God's Scent
I know that you're God sent
because you ascend into the sky with wings as strong as Samson
before he was tricked and deceived by Delilah
I know that you're God sent
because you're bound to betray just how they all betrayed our Messiah
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
See you in the synchronicities
...That's wishful thinking
Get to know my idiosyncrasies
There's something about the unexpected
That we always anticipate
Or how you always introduce yourself
Like I could forget your presence
It stuck with me
like the taste of your perfume
A savorous ghost
after you left the room
...Then my senses brought me back
To just a moment ago
Laced in your pheromones
When you left me trembling
Meet me on the astral plane
After we strip down to vibrations tonight
We'll build a world outside of our minds
A happenstance rendezvous
Your subconscious or mine?
We'll wake up on the shores
of Black Sandy Beaches
Where I vicariously hunted you my dear
through songs of another
Do you hear me in your headphones?
Passed the music
A subliminal soul
Telepathically delivering you the words
I cannot say to your face
...To the one that I write about.
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 4:51 PM UTC
In that telepathy where the tincture of you flows across into me
and two minds are as one
and the linguistics could be any language they please
where we understand everything
amid the teasing of the tone
and where the home I have made
is the bed upon which we laid
there is a playing of games across the Ocean whose name I no longer recall.
but no matter of that, in my mind,in my flat you are here
with me.
telepathically speaking until still seeking connect
I elect to a meeting
a fleeting of faces
a mouthful of places come up for a rendezvous.
Do you know where the flowers grow tall by the hot dog seller next to the bandstand in the parkland up at Hampstead hill?
You do?
good
see you at three twenty
and I have got plenty to say.
Later in the day after hot dogs and soda I told her let's move on,the evening has brought on a chill
will you come home with me?
I waited to see what her reply might be,
'that could be good'
and I knew that it would
so we
tootled off scootily
and she tootled quite beautifully
and on this bed that we laid we made
another nightshade.
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 6:36 AM UTC
Sa pamamagitan ng kabutihan ng Kanyang Kabutihan
~~~
*the message arrive by private telegraph line,
"write,"
she behests,
more than a mortal's requests,
an authoritative pleading,
an urgent prompting
with an element of divinity attached,
almost a command
by virtue of
her virtue,
who am I to refuse,
though the writing gene/genie,
somnolent, suppressed, quiescent,
melatonined by the pills the
life force feeds us
from a bottle lonely labeled,
"whether you like it or not"
reckless explore the venues
you would prefer to never venture,
so,
this poem becomes her,
this poem be comes her,
this poem be comely
for and because of her
unbare chambers that have rusted shut,
be unafraid,
she seances me telepathically,
in the poet's way,
a crying smile accentuated with
"write of the titles you have confessed
to the body's mind inquisitor
that be stored
in the warehouses
of thy heart"
this irrecusable, willing bidding,
sneaks in the back door,
so easy oiled opened
by virtue
of her virtue
seven years of grain Pharaoh stored
in preparatory for the lean ones that
inevitable
come
yes, have so many would be's
gestated, but not fully formed,
none adequate to honor sufficient
her comely
behest
thus commissioned,
my purposeful mission,
to honor her once more,
with a simple honorific,
her wish, no matter how couched,
t'is my duty to fulfill
so here, full and filled
I grant her wishes,
with impoverished verses inadequate,
for you know her too,
as she full and fills us all*
***by virtue
of her
virtue***
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 4:54 PM UTC
PLEASE NOTE: The original writer of this poem is Sasha Hayles.
Poets meet here.
Where the mind and soul connect
To telepathically spew about the
metaphors
Similes
And verses
Of words unsaid
About those spiritual genius
And poetic fiends
Who's tongue drips lyrical acid
Onto us, to burn into our chest
And relieve us
Of words unsaid.
Poets met here.
And their life line that tethered them to the coast
Of their sanity's sanctuary
Were frayed at the edges
And broken when they were caught up
In the rapture of
Gluttonous
Overly simplistic
And iconoclastic mentality
That closed mouths never moved forward...
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 10:46 PM UTC
sunspot
sunrise
sunshine
moonshine
i lick you off my lips like strawberry
pineapple
grape juice
a fine wine that i’ve never drunk.
asteroid belt
orion’s belt
daddy’s belt
i am opening the door a crack for you only to slam it in your face—i am
waiting for you to knock
to pound your fist against the gate
to break your hand on the wood
i am waiting for you to say that you love me
and i am waiting for myself to believe it completely
(i think you do but i am still afraid you might leave me)
((jupiter has 67 moons and i think that i might be
each and every single one of them)).
oort cloud
smoke cloud
the burning ash of my father’s lit cigar flicking onto my hands
i am awake at night and thinking about how you no longer taste like lung
mouth
kidney cancer.
my grandfather almost died of prostate cancer
my friend is dying of brain cancer
my father will probably die of liver cancer
there is not enough space in the cosmos
for all of us, is there? … God?
meteorite
meteoright
i am trying to sleep without your face in the back of my neck
hand on the back of my hand
leg tangled around the back of mine
i am trying to telepathically whisper my secrets into your ears
but the only problem is that i have not yet
mastered this form of communication—
i think that everything would be so much easier if i just didn’t feel.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC
Traveling through the dusk tunnel
A pinpoint of light at the end;
Warmth overtaketh me
The beginning of life's around the bend.
One hundred kin
Waiting to greet me in;
All smiling, all radiating
Ages range from five to one-hundred and nine,
Some looketh old, though all's young: no age existeth, time here is not told. Age only existeth back on earth, though here; all age's art the same, no one is special by their birth.
Betwixt mine family standeth tall mine savior and lord
Jesus Christ the king; with angel's whom standeth beside him, as tis they speaketh together telepathically. In Christ's hand's he reacheth out to me- as whilst I looketh at his eye's aqua green, the universe showeth itself in a way to Man unseen; and whilst at that moment clearly I hadst seen the hole's in his Palm's and feet, his word's " cometh hither mine son" I bowed in front of mine kin to him instantaneously.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 2:51 PM UTC
meale, agin thy losabox,
Mine sixth sense canst
Feeleth thine Cranium's
Woe. Telepathically this
I do know; as thine dazzle
Is leaving slowly, but queen
Behold me, as I taketh the
Stripes on thine backside.
I taketh the crown of Thorn's,
Upon thy top; whilst I bleedeth
Thine own blood, so its me, not thee
Whom the demon's confront. I wilt
Dieth for thou, so rest easy amour;
I wilt suffereth for thou, relax mine
Girl. I wilt replace thine water droplet's
With mine own vital being, Upon the
Burdened cross, I'll be hung up; strung
As cattle; struck with cord's, so thou canst sleep.
As when thou shalt waketh from thine gentle snooze, I shalt be
Bloodied, broken, anguished, bruised. All because I tooketh thine Torment's, so thou couldst respire mine muse, all because sweetest jane, im verily in love; verily in love with thou, mine dear refuge.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl jane Nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 8:57 PM UTC
150: "I've never had a fat girlfriend" your now ex-boyfriend explains when questioned about the reason why he said the two of you just won't work. He tells you that "he thinks you're cute, but would be much cuter if you lost a few pounds". His words echo in your brain until eventually insults are the only thing you can force yourself to swallow.
120: Everyone is congratulating you on your extraordinary weight loss, they all want to know your secrets. You don't tell them that every night you're on your knees worshipping the toilet bowl. That the only chocolate you've tasted in months is the chalky, sweetness of the laxatives that you take like a daily vitamin. That you don't allow yourself food until the emptiness inside you threatens to steal your consciousness. Instead, you smile and say "must be good genes".
90: You get into a fight with your mother after she tries to force you to eat dinner with your family. You ate yesterday, this will throw off all the goals you've been striving towards. You no longer know how to survive if you're not destroying yourself in the process.
90: You run into your ex boyfriend at the local Walmart with his new girlfriend. She's heavier than you are, but her eyes still shine like lighthouses, he hasn't gotten to her yet. You try to telepathically tell her to run, to leave while she's still whole, but you know the message gets lost on its way. So you settle for a smile, and a compliment to the figure she still has.
120: It's so hard to live in a society where perfection is unattainable but at the same time required... However, it's not impossible. You are already in recovery, you've made it through the hardest part. It's so much better to be full of food than full of empty wishes.
150: Your new girlfriend whines about how jealous she is of your curves, compares your body to that of an ancient goddess. You hesitantly accept the compliment, still not comfortable with imagining your body as anything other than the curse he made you think it was. Darling, your body is not the curse, your body is the blessing... I'm glad you've finally started treating it as such.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 10:29 PM UTC
Everyday I crank into battle,
pedal my knobby-spaceship
to somewhere else.
I'm really nobody special,
just another universal-soldier,
a lover of rock and roll,
a fellow sojourner.
Achilles Last Stand
blasts through
my skull candy
in raw-melody.
I jump curbs,
hop ravines,
resurrecting the
meaning of clairvoyance.
I read her calling,
a true woman-child
crying for faith,
she masked her pain
with self-doubt,
swallowed anger,
hexed by *** & drugs
& lots of alcohol,
temporal killing pain-relief,
death-elixirs from liars.
And in my boldness,
my love for her indomitable spirit,
I shout to her,
telepathically send her
an important sincere message,
"Pick yourself up fighter,
cleanse your bloodied knees,
cloak yourself in flower-maille,
love yourself first
for protection
from you adversaries
(and there are many).
Carry the shield of courage
to blind the dark-world
with the next coming,
the coming of your own sun,
shine sister shine!"
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC
I'll say it now and I've said it before; the best book I've ever read is about the paradoxes of war.
A friend asked a question, then added
"But spare me the lecture."
I told him the best book I've ever read was about architecture.
An alien sent a question from his head telepathically to mine,
So I thought of that book I once read of a man unstuck in time.
(If the title was placed here, it would just almost rhyme)
Near Betelgeuse, I picked up a man in need of a ride
I asked where he was headed, and he said,
"Nowhere in mind."
He had a book with him.
It was some sort of guide.
I once kicked the crap around with a young kid in a hat.
He looked down at my hands and said,
"Hey, what's that?"
I told him it was a book full of phonies and jerks.
He nodded, then lit a cigarette.
There was blood on his shirt
A man once recited,
Word for word,
A book I recognized after having heard.
I said, "That's my favorite!"
And he gave me a look.
The best book I've ever read was about burning books.
I once played God, and gave a dead thing new life,
But it was so grotesque that I had to run away and hide.
A tormented and wretched human imitation.
Made me think of a book about a man tortured by his own creation.
One time I was reading a book above mentioned,
When a man came up to me and asked a most impertinent question.
He said, "I see you reading all the time, but have you ever read
the greatest book of all time?" I glared at him and said,
"No I have not, but I've heard much about it.
It's a very popular book, but I do without it."
He said I should reconsider.
That it's not one to pass.
I told him to take that **** book, and shove it up his ***
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 12:17 AM UTC
I slept pretty well in bed last night.
But something startled me, made my heart beat very fast.
At first I couldn’t figure out what was happening.
Then I realized I was dreaming of you.
Is it at all possible, that you were dreaming me?
Is it possible that you pulled me telepathically into your bed?
I was eased into your comfortable embrace;
laying underneath you in total darkness,
we were both unrobed steeped in passion.
We didn’t look into each other’s eyes,
because the darkness held all control.
Both of us knew that the time had come,
for us to close that mysterious gap.
You caressed my face and kissed my neck,
you kissed my lips and magic happened.
Our bodies were electrified, our souls caught fire,
and your kiss sent chills all over my body.
My heart was beating faster and faster,
my body was yours and nothing else mattered.
I guess I couldn’t take the energy that surged,
from your body Into my soul.
When you kissed me again, I came to my senses.
My body went into some sort of shock,
the moment felt real, but I knew it was not.
So I told myself to wake the **** up!
When I opened my eyes, I was back in my bed,
covered in sweat, and eyes wide open.
Heart still beating incredibly fast,
while my spirit slumbered in widespread shame.
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 2:52 PM UTC
The tea cup clouds were reason enough.
Reeling, the clock hands spun on an axis wobble
noon flirted with night
and I broke into a run
as the sky opened its maw
and screamed.
Even the suits scramble for burrows.
Retrospection always has a punchline.
Hide away, slide away
Stop looking at my ******* please.
Now watch wide-eyed behind
public glass, with a
sitcom gang of affable protagonists
who are now late for their respective chapters
Staring at their phones, willing the weather
forecast to telepathically change.
The light strobes, the bricks quiver sympathetically
and I riddle a fourteen year old pantheon
as they sway, as they jaunt
ankle deep in charged water
daring each other and daring the sky
daring the noise with headphones still around necks
like defiant plastic boas
Clothes plastered, mouths open, rain-drunk
feeling **** revealing secret intimate shapes,
feeling sheepishly exposed next
to crushes who will kiss them at the next movie.
I am aware of each nerve as I drip and shiver
I'm terrified of storms, my reasons are mine
but even this fear
can cat-stroke my skin
hyper-sensitized, electric
and make me feel
**** too.
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 3:58 PM UTC
This is your life
leave a fire behind
to pass the torch
via karma transfusion
telepathically energizing
racing minds
You've got your whole life ahead of you
To come back around
minute by minute
racing you down
left in the inertia
of figuring yourself out
chase the light
it's passing through the floorboards
where your heart lays sealed
secluded until one day…
she came
simultaneously
slipping up the skirt
of synchronicity
somewhere in time
You had her
And You lost her again
Until you stared down fine art
To bring her back
At the right place
at the right time
of minds' projection
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 1:20 AM UTC
this is americana.
this is the sound of family get-togethers,
or the lack thereof.
the sound of awkward pleasantries
because we see each other
twice a year on the major
holidays. there are birthday cards
sent back and forth, necessary
games of monotonous tag and we
bleed our thoughts in between the
general conversations, we look
into each other's eyes and share thoughts
telepathically. we are not close,
but we are joined.
this is americana,
small town edition.
they call you family as
they look through your cupboards
for ***** dishes. they smile
and laugh with you as they dish
out gossip and revenge. they
stab a knife into your butcher-block
counter top. they sever your spinal
cord and make you a puppet, a
voicebox spitting out the message. they
make you their ***** and they call it
friendship.
this is americana.
grilling burgers and hot dogs
on the fourth of july, fireworks
across the town, city, nation.
you drive on interstates for miles
and miles and miles and every tree looks
the same even with mountains behind it,
until there's nothing but a great red
stretch of desert and you wonder if
the cactus really holds water, but the
honda civic or the minivan or the f-150
is going too fast to stop and find out.
you end up in a thousand starbucks,
a million mcdonalds, a billion little places
filled with a trillion little life forms
and you think about the way home smells,
how your mom made the home baked goods
when you were little but stopped as you
grew because not everything stays
golden.
this is americana.
united we stand, divided we
fall. we repeat a pledge from birth,
more often than we call for our parents
and before you learn what you're
promising. they say our nation is a
melting *** free of religion, discrimination
and hate. we see a different truth;
we still say "god" as we pledge to a bleeding
country; races of every color suffer, every
gender is beaten down by society, and
we are not allowed to define, to own
ourselves unless we're white, rich, "powerful".
americana is a genre, a taste, a sugar-coated
glimpse into promise and unbeatable dreams.
the truth is we're all in debt, we're being
drowned out by the wealthy, we're all falling
prey to the powers that be.
we are americana, and we are broken.
whatever you believe, let us pray
that there is a chance left to
heal.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 5:17 PM UTC
(a quid pro quo plug for zaftig women)
women that tip weigh ling needle to spin vicious circle
akin to puppy chasing her/his tail
or require digital scale,
at the extreme alt right registering heavy
ba Jill 'en Jack knifed pail loads
whether young or old ought to be appreciated
not waifer thin self starved as a rail,
instead they suffer unfair injustice
like a trapped quivering quail
thus this fatalistic, generic,
and holistic landlubber
wanted to point head lee
hammer home one secure
heterosexual ******* stronger than
omnipotent Marcy's Playground
weather beaten pail
Trent Reznor's sixty 9 inch rust free steel nail
into the coffin of bias
against bevy of beautiful babes
within the mind of this male,
who inherited genetic predisposition
for being average, hearty and hale
yet feel compassion for those engaged
in an ongoing with battle of the bulge,
hmm... perhaps hiding ample *****
akin to milky sopping wet grail
or accepted unequivocally themselves
without envy of lithesome women,
who seem to possess flair with nary a flail
yet possess much love to avail,
and tis wise to love oneself unconditionally
despite premium aesthetics considered svelte
which mass media accentuates de facto spelt
definition of femininity aka runway models
donned in faux animal pelt
whose deliberate self exhibition
prompts madding crowd of man
to waggle tongue with slack jaws
as if ready to melt
or at instantaneous signal telepathically felt
drop drawers upon removing blackbelt.
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC
I haven't really laughed since 2009
He said,
He then divulged his struggles
As I did mine
We spoke of the mutual regret about not keeping in touch
But with conflicting schedules, relocations and studies
It is comprehensible we veered in opposite directions and lost contact
My estranged bestfriend
We reminiscenced about the time when we were school kids
In stiff shirts, massive floppy hats
And giant blazers we practically drowned in
How eager we were to go home
When the siren went off at 3:05pm
The shanenigans at the pavilion
In sixth form
When we were the lords of the academy
A strong grip on my giant mug as if it were the holy grail
Stirring my something that ends with cinno
Huddled in the corner of a cozy eatery
In his company once again
it felt as though I had arrived home where fire burns incessantly in the fire place
On a winter's night
With a soft blanket over my shoulders
We laughed about my truancy
And how he got kicked out of the ruby team on account of his rather lanky physique
He imitated our biology teacher and tears flowed down my cheeks
That kind of laughter
You feel in your core
And your whole body shakes
So captivated by the various discussions
We both forgot to sip on our steaming beverages
He narrated a few short stories about the events
that have taken place since we last conversed
I in turn narrated mine or lack thereof
He emphatically tilted his head to the side
God, I had missed those gestures of his
It all came flooding back
His mannerisms
The way he moves his hands when he speaks as if he is trying to literally hold the conversation
For what seemed like a lifetime Before saying goodbye
Dead-eyed
We stared into each other's eyes
Almost as if to telepathically say
Do you remember the time
When we were so alive.
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 1:15 PM UTC
I’ve been wishing for that moment
That moment to address my statement
Not verbally but telepathically,
Not harsh but sweet and gently.
I want that moment with you
A moment for two
I want to stare at your cute face,
Go deep in your heart and find my dwelling place.
I want to go somewhere with you
Somewhere quiet, just me and you
I don’t want anything else but your lips,
Soften them up with a steamy kiss.
I want that moment in the palm of my hand
With words no tongue can comprehend.
I want that moment with you
A moment for two.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 1:26 AM UTC
I caught her
telepathically feeling me up
From across these parking lots
where I always find myself
stalling even when I'm not parked
Her eyes were like darts
to my sacral chakra
She must have felt the spark
igniting my erogenous area
Now her soul's on fire
Just how she imagined it
To be devoured eternally
To have the life ****** out of her
To feel the little death
Rebirth her senses
It was all in her head
just how I imagined it.
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
maybe I should be optimistic
maybe if I said everything I thought instead of staring she wouldn't think I'm strange,
maybe not
maybe if I wrote her name a hundred more times I'd be able to start my homework
maybe if I think real hard she’ll telepathically hear my compliments
maybe if I threw paint on me before I left my house she’d notice me
maybe I'm good without her, Jesus never had a girl
maybe I'm not Jesus
maybe I should just walk up to her and kiss her like in the movies
maybe I'd get arrested
maybe I should quit with the maybe’s
maybe
maybe good guys do finish last
maybe I'm cool with that (seriously?)
maybe not
maybe I'll stop thinking about her
one day,
maybe
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 11:18 PM UTC
Telepathically
When our souls meet
In our dreams tonight
Let me remind you
that human contact
Is an absolute necessity
I want you to grab
these hips of mine
And bring me in close enough
So I can show you
That in this timeless space
You will never lose me
I want to bite your lips
And fill your mouth
With reasons
you'll never want your heart
to belong to anyone else
Let me trail my fingernails
down your back
As a map of the places
You've taken me
You will fill my ears
with passionate noises you make
And remind me that
The only thing
I ever want to get high off of
Is your laugh
And within this rapture
When I whisper
that "I love you"
It will never be out of secrecy
But rather out of the certainty
That you literally
Leave me
Breathless
© 2017
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 10:21 AM UTC