"underexposed" poems
'Yeah, I'm not vulnerable.'
I've been telling myself this for too long.
I'm delicate.
Easily damaged.
Porcelain.
I bare my soul because it brings closure
to wounds left festering for years.
But to be vulnerable means I must have your trust.
Shall I trust you?
Pour years of pain before your feet?
Or would you just hurt me like others could?
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
We write about two AM because it is simplicity and we are underexposed. Overtime, simplicity becomes complex and subjective and harder to define. Soon you associate two AM with her hair holding on desperately to her shoulder blades, but at that point it doesn't matter what time it is because all your brain understands is her mouth and how badly you want to kiss it. Everything is clinging to something: hair to skin, sheets to mattress, mouth to teeth; but the real fear lies in what will end up letting go and this is why we are born with out fists clenched, because from the moment we are living, every insecurity spills like air out of a bag you thought was vacuum sealed. See, life is full of complexities and we can't seem to find permanent serenity, but, in the midst of it all, there are small things that resonate within us and soon we collapse into a string of cliches and we fight not to drown within them, collectively babbling and trying to make sense of the concept of never letting go.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
My opinions are mine
don't overstep the line
I might be kind
But don't take that to mind
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 4:42 AM UTC
on the wagon, off the wagon
driving the ******* wagon off the road
and i woke up crying in that ditch
i tried sobriety
but there is a lot of shame leading down that path
these days i watch my beard grow
the string of confusing thoughts is stretching
a mind-fuck of disorganized pictures
underexposed faces, smiling
for what reason, i wonder?
that head-worm ******* me dry
i still get out of bed (most mornings)
to a soiree of boredom
a cocktail-party of great pretenders
what is the sum total?
i wish i was still in that ditch
crying my heart out
drunk
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 10:28 PM UTC
monistical transcendents from complex
algorithms in dancing neosouls
growing formations of unaware
intelligent abstract patterns as truth
conceals the ever evolving dimension of
another time space feeling
lumbering freely among the stars
Judging by apparence it falls
unnaturally easy for the unconcerned to
numb the emotions into whatever
green is at hand as an underexposed
line overreacts as it hurls itself into a verbal
echo ...
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 9:24 AM UTC
A sloppy connection made through dry sockets
Man-child trembles at his capabilities
Poor thing, my charge
A fifth of *** and a bit of battery acid
So true
A false wall that keeps the roaches in
Volunteer for a bit of community service
I serve, teach, and protect (frail ego systems)
I serve it up spiced and garnished
Cut up neatly with uniform premeditated precision
Little bite-sized baby food morsels for his mouth
So easy to chew
So true
So easy to swallow
The boy, lewd rude lust thrusting
(Drag in his line, correct its arc, and begin again, slower now)
Poor thing
The spotlight making his naked man-machine
Glow surreal satellite white, overexposed;
Pour viscous shadows into every exquisite crevice
In repose, underexposed
He begins to decipher my light projection
I put it to my lips…
My motive *****
Poor thing, always at a lack
Pretty vacant boy bomb
(Sigh…just lie still life)
Just one of the boys
Just one of the luscious little wind-up toys
Just another pound pounding of flesh
(Fact: humans are mostly dark meat)
He passes out before I can do any real damage
Superimposed, film the oily residue cell by cell
It is my body, oh yes
My doppelgänger dictates the disease
(White sound waves will wash my body
Clean to a distant, lonely shore)
Dip me in saliva
I come up gilded, salt streaks straps stinging
So true
I am sick of the flaming hoop trick
I am sick of his radiant Vegas platform
(Sick of trying tying a knot in this cherry stem)
Ambivalence a smeared lipstick stain from yesterday
My thoughts are exactly 21.5 miles away
Just once
I want something pure
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 9:07 PM UTC
earthen and underexposed, I've never
needed someone as ravenously as I do you --
my environment secondary and the correlating perception laced with my association of you
I plead the fifth -- with my being aching to share
my existence with you, only you
your energies balance me and, magnetic, we resonate off one another
harmonious and guilty -- for I've brushed my lips along yours in sin,
and she's done the same in vow.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 2:26 PM UTC
You left a photograph with red light leaks
You had a waxen skin and a Cheshire smile
You wore a dark blue stripped sweater
Had on faded blue jeans
You were wearing your favorite necklace,
The one shaped like an icosahedron
It was quite haunting, this photograph of you
I don’t remember taking it
Wasn’t even quite sure it was you
May 15, 2025
May 15, 2025 at 10:06 PM UTC