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Ariel Baptista Jan 2017
Stretch me out and count me like clouds
Say she is vapour
Venom, velvet and vermouth
With hair of hazelnut rapture
Clutch the moments, clutch the moonbeams
Clutch the stretched out skies of cloud and mustard gas sunset
Sing she is a child of trauma
Supressed in the name of breathing
Violence in the name of skin
And she is venom, velvet and vermouth
She was born to pink salt lakes in the low country
With ruby pomegranate eyes
And hair of hazelnut rapture
Girl with the soul of a thousand pilgrim journeys
Girl with the soul of a blackberry bush
Girl with the soul of olive trees and sheep meat and oven bread in the fire country
Human smiles
And other dark things of value
She lies like velvet
She lies in the name of supressing traumas
In the name of breathing
She bleeds like a billion stars bleed vapour
She is venom and vermouth
With hair of hazelnut rapture
She is the sum of a thousand pilgrim journeys
The prayer of holy rivers in the canyon country
The smoke of incense burned by sages
The scars of bodies burned by crusaders in mustard gas chambers
Goddess of Nuclear energies
Red-eyed like ruby pomegranates
Like the dewy cauldron of morning
When tenuous steps lead bodies down the path of executionary revolution
To boarders, frontiers, walls of white-skin scar tissue
Sing songs of Babylon in the free country
Clutch the moments
Clutch your breaths and hold them in broken palms
Clutch the tides and teach them
Breach your rib-cage, unstitch and return the borrowed bones
Melt the metaphoric thrones
Breathe backwards in the name of unsupressing traumas
In the name of truth
Stretch me out and count me like clouds
Girl of angel-breath ambition
Soul of blackberry bush and smile of splintered terracotta tile
Sing your songs
Say she is vapour
Looking for notes, criticism, anything really! Thanks **
A glimpse which drags me toward—that frothing moment
Gasp; We’re almost dead—so nearly, nearly:
WE ARE!
Trite symbiloque and habadashed sorrows
thread between devising motives for that handshake in the
wash.
Take me there, that empty shelter covering fears
re-move sheaves
one by one. Twisting
back, a wave
goodbye—glowering redemption and preempted desire
trailer, hitch—inclined
sleeves unstitch
our spinning translucent halos
and a magazine.
MMXI
scully Oct 2015
its taken me too long to unstitch my hands and free every thought you shuffled and stuck inside of my head

one. i think you lost me somewhere between wanting to cross miles to get to me and forgetting i exist because at some moments it feels like you worked overtime to fix the abandon architectural artwork inside of me like i was community service

two. after you came and knocked down trees and shifted the tides, every ounce of clarity was able to mirror
your whimsical efforts of drowning me out with pretty girl phrases and only calling me when you were too high to choke out my name

three. i had something inside of me that was kept under glass and i let you behind closed doors and watched you destroy it
i let you build me up with toy blocks just how you wanted me, and i let you lose interest when you decided it was more fun to knock me down and listen to the noise i made when i hit the concrete

four. the Worlds Most Fragile museum was being catered to in the holes in my chest and if i was an armoire and you opened me up your name in red pen ink would spill out of me over thousands of artifacts and priceless memories that you've bubbled over and consumed

five. even as i write this, you'd think i would find a home in an elementary classroom by the way i can barely remember how to speak
and ive got no doubt that you went out with your usual bang
and when you left you took a goodbye that never quite delivered and all of my words with you

six. my grandmother told me insects sing, for months, the same song in hopes that they will attract a mate with their repetitive soliloquies and maybe that's my hope when i tell you i love you even when you hurt me, hope that maybe one day you will pick up the phone and echo my ache with a clear, sober melody that sounds like home.

im sure the insects will find someone who enjoys their neurotic patterns and im sure i will sleep alone in an uncomfortable bed only shushing the silence as the mailcart comes by my front lawn and pauses for a second as if it empathizes with the way i stand at the door.

seven. im always waiting for a manilla package addressed to me
containing every night i spent trying to be anxiously clever and overlooking your bad judgement and the flickers across your sentences where you were forcing yourself to care

eight. every night all i receive is the crickets and a reminder that the letters that spell out your name had become my own personal hamartia before i started whispering it in my sleep

nine. ever since we met you've infected my veins like you were a deadly back alley drug and there's something so addicting about wanting to fix someone and figure them out and work for their love

ten.  if you steal my expressions and bury them in your ground and stick a wooden stake through my last words in order to make sure i only resurface when your sobriety is fully compromised, i will, as writers do, create myself a new dictionary

the act of your name will become a verb: forcing time to scrub the inside of every part of me you touched like im a sold off garage sale item and you're trying to expurgate any emotional damage that might have been done to lower my price

the way the bugs echo will become an adjective for when i am too tired to go out and pretend that my feet arent sinking into the floor

the drilled-for-oil glass museum in my heart will become a noun;  the eighth wonder of the world, and i will continue to let people destroy it and piece it back together for the sake of art

the way you left me and the ferocity of how you stole every part of me i showed you will join adverbs and Aristotle's tragedy principles among people who created their own cloudbursts.

the way i wrap everything i've wanted to say to the back of your head as you walk away into a bulletpoint essay will become my new definition for poetry and i will build myself up from the ashes i will create from your destruction, i will sing my own songs and showcase my own museums and mail my own letters and i will **continue.
*******
Devon Baker Oct 2011
Maybe if I unsheathed the buttons so lovingly,
slipped them from their beds like children doting under the breath of my fingers,
I could be free
unwrap these tendril sleeves
unknot and untie like braided shoe laces
child smile booming on my lips
maybe I could slither out and under this jacket of rigid strait edge,
maybe I could lick the clouds with my unclaimed hands
bathe in unrestraint,
Tug upon the chains of God’s grace
Burn these walls
and cut down the servants of white gowns and latex gloves
those thieves and miscreants,
Demons of pill born needles,
Strip down my skin and carcass
relinquish all of human trait
to bore over them as the demon they boldly create,
the ******* of razor bladed teeth,
Leather based restraint,
They so dutifully attempt to restrain me,
I’ll finger paint with their brain splatter,
just unstitch this jacket,
rouse the children from their sleeping,
unbutton them so verily gently,
Please mother unbind my wings,
coddle my wound,
Mother dearest might I finally go to you
The machine's coldness seethed my hair
as the world sat on my shoulder
that made it surrender
like curtains on a steaming afternoon
sighing questions
and endless uncertainty.

I punched the buttom
wrecked number 3
that bled Espresso
which in this another night
of your absence

would keep me awake
as I intensively unstitch the truth
about your pathetically sewn inventions
and attack the facts
about the abnormality of your society
and irrationality of your culture.

I swear I ******* hate you.
And someday you will die,
*******.
krista Oct 2013
i.   on our first date, you ask if i want to learn how to fly. guiding my trembling fingers over the yoke, you introduce me to an old friend, a mechanical anatomy you’ve had memorized since you were sixteen. the first time your hands leave the two of us alone, you watch my terrified eyes and laugh. flying is the easy part, you say.

ii.   there was a time when explorers would name new lands after people they loved instead of themselves. somehow i’ve never found that idea comforting. it worries me that places out there exist that can wear my name better than i do. on nights when you’re gone, i spend hours trying to picture what an island looks like when it smiles.

iii.   even as she was bathed in the icy blood of a dying vessel, rose sang a love song to the stars. when i think of romance, i think of hands that dissolve into air so that hearts have to sprout wings just to find each other on the way down. i think of ships of dreams and flying machines.

iv.   these days, i have stopped waiting for the silhouettes of planes to paint demolition across the sunset. when i’m lonely, i play fleetwood mac records and spin around the apartment until i exorcize all the ghosts. i try to convince myself that when loving rhiannon, no one gets to win.

v.*  on our last night, i ask you what the hardest part of being a pilot is. you unstitch your eyes from the cerulean-sewn skyline and look at me. *landing, you say. your hand feels warm in mine.
I don’t care if the sky falls

I don’t care if the oceans rise

I don’t care if the fires blaze

I have woven you into
the tapestry of my heart

and nothing can unstitch that
Day Thirteen
Yasin Oct 2021
Wash me with snow, hail and water
maybe then, I'd feel pure
maybe then, my cravings would crawl away
maybe then, my sins would sway away

and perhaps then I could unstitch my lips
and let out the years held of silence
the writing is difficult.
We feel so much
yet so little to write
so much thoughts but difficult to put in words
Lillith Foxx Aug 2013
skip me, shun me
never touch me,
don't give in to my rushed lusting

bend me, break me
just forsake me,
leave me to my wild chasings

lose me, leave me
don't believe me,
when I say you'd get me screaming

haunt me, flaunt me
mock and taunt me,
tell the world you'll never want me

grab me, stab me
never have me,
tell me how you cannot stand me

fry me, tie me
crucify me,
leave me cuffed up; hang and dry me

beat me, bruise me
over-use me,
*****, abuse and tear into me

throw me, *******
get below me,
show me how you'll never stroke me

rip me, **** me
tongue and take me,
come inside and rearrange me

cut me, gut me
shame and **** me,
rip my heart out while you **** me

kick me, ditch me
pull-unstitch me,
spread my limbs and leave me twitching

tie me, lye-formaldehyde me,
out of sight and out of mind me,
live your life while I am dying,
pray no one will ever find me.
Withoutwords Nov 2015
Close every door
to the waist of space that I am,
Push my plight from you mind
And take all that you can
I won't miss you
But I'm certain you'll see
That once I am gone
You will really miss me.

Drill out the poisons
And shave of the trees
Smoother the meadows
and empty the seas.
I'm not sticking around
For the next act of man
My ecosystems are bust
I've done all that I can.

I'll take the birds
and the bats and the bees,
I'll keep the bugs
the shrubs and the trees,
I'll unravel the wind
from the rustling leaves
It may seem worthless to you
But it's priceless to me.

I'll unstitch the patchwork
off the rolling hillsides,
the grass can be folded
and the tree roots untied.
You can pull out the flowers
and plants crops in rows
But don't come crying to me
When nothing good grows.

I'll pick out all the fish
The flies and the frog
I'll unpeeled the rivers
and collect up the logs.
The atmospheres filthy
I'll just chuck it away
There's no fixing that
No matter how much you pay.

I've salvaged what i can
Of the soil and peat,
Some has been scorched
by the increasing heat,
I'm taking the Beavers
The wolves and the Bears
I've pack up their lodges,
their dens and their lairs.

I've had enough
of been trampled and torn
My airs all populated
And my earth is all worn.
You can keep all your money
Good look on your own
Let's see how you get on
without your ozone.
Syd Dec 2015
"If you love someome, let them go."

Easier said than done. How am I supposed to let you go? How do I unclench my fists, how do I unhook my hands, how do I unstitch my heart? I was never good at taking things apart; I only ever knew how to keep them together.

"If they come back, they're yours..."

Coming back. This quote fails to acknowledge all the lost time in between leaving and returning. All the days that run together like a mess you don't know how to clean up, the weeks that pass agonizingly slow, the months that go by without ever hearing from you.

I know how the quote goes, I know how it ends. Saying it out loud tends to turn my stomach and squeeze my heart until it hurts. I can't handle that possibility - the possibility of you never really being mine to begin with. It's a thought I won't let my mind try to rationalize. It's a theory I refuse to accept.

You were mine. We shared four amazing years of laughter, of adventure, of love. The days went by quickly and the weeks passed with ease, each month came and went without any attention from us. Time didn't matter.
It hardly existed at all.

You were mine. I loved you beyond a reason why, beyond pride, beyond fault or mistake. I loved you regardless of circumstance and without obligation. I loved you so much it consumed me. I loved you, and you were mine to love.
You were mine,
but maybe I was never yours.

"if they don't, they never were."
Ainsley Feb 2016
Loosen the wire, your time has expired,
the only word left is “goodbye.”
In my new dream the light's shining on me,
little needles of sodium unstitch the seams of the sky.

Hold your head higher, the heavenly choir
is settling in for the night.
And where I had friends I am left with loose ends;
four hours of vision exchanged for four hours of fright.
jennee Apr 2014
We sat at the end of the stairway
Outside your house past your garden’s gate
Our lips moved whilst exchanging words
Our gaze was vast beyond what ears are heard
My outlines remained shivering and unstill
We talked and talked draining our hearts once filled
Our lips ran dry, craving for water’s bliss
You then took my empty heart and leaned in for a kiss
You parted, leaving me immensely wanting for more
I held your hand and it pricked me like a thousand thorns
Blood started pumping through and past my veins
Into your chest, into your heart infected with pain
I didn’t let go to you holding on
Your lips stopped moving, your words drifted, it was done
I touched you once more, pressing mouth against mouth
Severing heart, this hurt more than our lips filling in the drought
You pulled closer; it struck harder, slashing past before my skin
I took hold of you, trying to stay stronger, mouth deeper than sin
Hand in hand, it was sinking in; I’m falling down the rabbit hole again
The stairway was gone, the gate, the roses, you were still there but I’ve lost a friend
The garden gnome, he held the clock, time was slowly ticking away
Bodies side by side, our hearts then stopped, it had almost seemed like it’s been days
She and I, once innocent, now bare, with no more dignity to hide
She whispered “come on Alice, don’t give up, we’re got our hearts to find”
Scourged skin, torn dresses, unpredictably she smiled
She said “I haven’t been this scared in a long time; it’s been quite a while”
Our footsteps grew distant yet the clock continued to tick
She lifted two roses obliviously, her eyes followed to the one I picked
She held it close to her lips, sliding the stem past before her skin
Blood started streaming down, there’s more than there has ever been
Wounds started to unstitch, scars started reopening
And with the greyest of eyes and the rose between her mouth, it slowly started unfurling
She gave me the slightest smirk and approached me with an embrace
I felt her warm touch draining inside me, the rose pricking me through
And the was the last time, I ever saw her face

n.j.
Alice in Wonderland inspired
Jeffrey Pua Jan 2017
Smile, hold that ever-smile.
Tonight, you will witness a brave star
     Unstitch the shadows off his feet.
He will high dive and unload
The weight off his chest
     Then burn himself gladly
     Towards the law of gravity,
Just to break the icy walls
Of the heart you once thought
Impenetrable, and you will smile,
     Sweetly, the smile of smiles.

     But someday I will circle you,
          One in six, seven on seventh,
     Forevermore, and you'll hear me
          Say I love you, then you will fall.*

© 2017 J.S.P.
Draft.
A Feb 2018
Ask me about my past
I'll unstitch every seam
Tear everything out and lay it all on the table
A scrapbook pulled from a house fire
I'll romanticize every bruise
I'm interesting

Ask me how I've made it this far
I'll show you every "I'm fine"
How I've welded it into an armor I can't take off
I'll turn every "I wish you were never born" into the reason you fall in love with me
I'm a liar

Don't ask me who I am
I'll try to tell you something from the heart, I will
But if you close the scrapbook and look up
You'll see that there's nothing left
I'll try to be something I'm not for you

But I'm nothing
I talked to a guy recently and it seemed like he only found me interesting when he would ask about my past. Like my history was a novelty, the only thing he found attractive.
I'm more than that, I promise
OliviaAutumn Jan 2015
She stood next to me in knickers and a t-shirt,
Needle and thread in hand with a grin between her legs.
"I will unstitch your heart" she said,
"And wear it on my sleeve so you never feel hurt again".
Heba H Mar 2015
At night,
When all my walls fall down
And I start to strip my shields
Layer by layer
Tear by tear
I unstitch my wounds
And I find you there
Under my skin
You and my misery
Misery that's caused by the fact that I denied myself the pleasure of loving you
So many times
That now I can only live with that fact
That I can't act
That I wonder
If I stare at the phone long enough
If I pray hard enough
If I wish on the right stars
at the right moments of time
Will you recognize my existence
Will I hear your voice
And every atom of me jump when I hear you say you miss me
What are the chances
Of finding something you lost once again
I wonder till my tears run out
Till the sun rises
And my walls are rebuilt
And you no longer exist
Till night.
Two moons rise and one moon sets.
Spotlight captures the one who frets.
Caught unawares in pursuit of wonders.
Tears drops stain the gloves of blunders.
Slipped off to forget what we have done.
The gloves decay under rising sun.
One moon sets and another rises,
while the sun departs with myriad disguises.
If two moons were wed in sunlit dreams,
would we forego our plans for all good things...
Would pleasures unstitch our tidy strings
and delay our minds for fallacies to sing.
I admit I'm unsure.
Nevertheless I will try,
to wed the moons, to brighten the sky,
but beyond the celestial weapons of love,
an infinite yearning awaits our passion.
For there are many moons in need of another.
There are many suns that must shine on the two.
For at the end of the day you and I do not matter.
Wherever there is one, there must be two.
So I say to her, I must be with you.
Thinking about someone I adore.
Then again, if not her, maybe someone else eventually.
That's how they all say it works, right?
Many fish in the sea.
Here, I say many moons in the sky. Keeping in mind we only know the one. A little irony, eh?

Enjoy!

DEW
Anna Skinner Feb 2017
you know just how to drive me wild*

requesting my favorite foreign gin
at a frequented bar;
running those fingertips over a label of dry red
the same way you traced road maps
on my hips last night.

i put some love into the poems you gave me,
can you tell by the creases in the corner?

10 a.m. tequila tastes like you
and those crystal eyes that unstitch me;
you unspool me
into an amaranthine ravel
of black thread --  
exploring dusty corners,
searching for what i've missed
Dune not be bashful, grumpy, leery
   or any other contemporary dwarf man
even countless less well known dwarves
   (that never got a chance
   to play a bit part) such as wham

bam
thank you ma'am
linkedin with emergence
   of Internet and poetry slam
opportunities availed by Uncle Sam

which characters (albeit fiction)
   nonetheless, helped spawn a quiet yet free
   global, radically riotous,
   totally tubular transformation

   affecting a societal and human specie
but not credited contributing
   to paradigm seismic shift that garnered tree
mend us plenti fully birthed,
   impacted and transformed how wii

(more particularly many gifted minds)
   bridged geographical distance
(encompassing all four corners
   of the Earth) to enhance

what came to be called the world wide web,
   digital strong armed lance
information super high,  "Cyber Revolution",
   etc allowing  one to prance

and essentially transcend reality to brook
   commanding, commingling, communicating, hook
   line and sinker, et cetera
   with an excellent access and out look
reaching the most distant cranny and nook.

This (bit a bing chitty bang)
   manifestation toward
exponentially faster processing capacities
   more powerful than pen or sword
(based on principles of Moore’s Law), reward
electronically solidifying
   binary unification swiftly tail lord

engenders greater dependence and reliance
   figuratively shrinking the drinking gourd
allowing far flung aliens, family,
   friends, et cetera to ford

great distances via sophisticated electronics
   courtesy of super smart mother board
enabling ever more complex
   electronic contrivances
   the generic **** Sapien gibbon could afford.

Analogous to Medieval Age
this quiet ***** riot creation
   vis a vis Internet did un cage
actual overcoming physical barriers
   ushered Hall mark gauge
marked by Computer/Digital Age odyssey),

   especially sharing pixillated page
at light speed, where the ordinary individual
   could keep in contact )
   albeit with every now and again
   a bit torrent rage

and in some instances tapping
   smarts of a preschooler considered a sage
which kindergarten lad/lass
   commandeered a handsome wage

whereat the parental figure did cajole, wheedle or beg
their wealthy progeny promising
   son/ daughter of a healthy nest egg
stored money in Swiss bank accounts or hollow leg
perhaps christened jpeg
or if an avid weekly reader of Moby **** Queequeg

who felt incorporeal storied power
   of Herman Melville as zen unseen aid
instructing hypothetic rich kid to drop out of school
   before his/her first grade
coz of all the money he/she made

which affected modus operandi rendered obsolete
   child worker laws
   and no sweat of brow getting paid
people used bitcoin (or other online currency)
   additionally making purchases
   with scant keystrokes to complete a trade.

As with any major dramatically novel scheme
light bulb idea scribbled on napkin
   scrap of paper
   via cheesy or whipped cream
originating as a flash in the pan
   aha eureka moment, or dream

as rough blue print subsequently
   underwent beta testing,
   before declaring pc innovation supreme
whereby outstanding persons in the tech industry
   clamored to join Kidde team.

Whether seventh day add vent
   hissed or other religious creed
powerful binary processing
   impacted near
   earth shaking incarnation indeed
and ramifications in all walks
   and talks of life sought expert need.

Coven chanting children murmured Luddites be ******!

Thus spake Zarathustra (cue the opening scene
from Planet of the Apes)
   upon witnessing as if king or queen
(in reality father or mother)
   didst get immediately

   dethroned thus, increasing mean
average positive
   effects on society, especially lean
microchip i.e. integrated circuitry

   miniaturization "green"
technology (and eventual
   attendant affordable price)
   viz said trappings

   unleashed upon global market
   invited absolute zero dust, a must clean
as a whistle work space,
   and manufacturers laboratory be microbe free
   hermetically sealed vacuumed "clean".

Countless portable machines
   unbeknownst soon epithet florid hack
   coining impromptu called cyber crime
especially as majority proportion of population
   didst purchase these dime,

a doze in countless "end users"
   snapped up these smart machines
   excitedly keyed away indifferent to gunk
on unwashed hands
   plus bits of food particles

   eventually caking hardware with grime
(eventually necessitating technician
   charging gobs of moolah
   sans to unstitch in time.

Gooey glop getting suctioned out
   technicians venting expletives
   emphasized obvious
   NO FOOD OR DRINK rule to abide
cuz suctioning tower

   or laptop presented vulnerability
   plus unforeseen downfall against fried
food and greasy hands ended up hide
ding in hardest to reach locale
   on circuit board no matter how expert pried

yelling out gratitude
   to geek squad member helping
   before he/she went out side door
eagerly awaiting

   remotely controlled self driving vehicle
   transporting techie guru home
   to an obscure gated destination,
   an uninterrupted distant, yet pleasant ride.

eventually amateurs encouraged
   to tinker like an apprenticed tailor
   akin as raw troubleshooting recruit
   oft playfully feigned to be soldier spy

pretending to repair bowel of computer
   when in truth visiting supposed shadowing dark side
   which lined illegal benefits of labor saving devices),
the sound of silence
(written on the subway walls)

though heretics opposing
   latest technology and felt sinister chill
(just ask Punxsutawney Phil),
the Internet ranks as greatest dog sent rill

lee where wiz kids ranked
   chatting killer apps with grateful dead
   information superhighway as heavenly manna
   with artificial intelligence street cred
since introduction of white bread
and powdered milk biscuits baked by Ahmed.
Sunny K May 2016
I was wont to do
What you want to do
Won’t you want me,
To be as wanton as you?

I awaited your touch, but it did not caress,
It sought instead a frightening abyss.
Uncleaved was I, and sheathed were you,
And yet, I felt plundered by you.

You sank in deeper than beauty or bone
your heart a loan, your heart alone
Come, come, come till you dissolve
Your sediments, grainy sentiments —
Swirling within my own.

But once you have settled, and I’m transparent
The change in us is intimately apparent
You bear in mind, my bare mind,
And mine bears witness to your soul errant.

Undress me, undo me and you will find
Just another skin, of another kind
A kiss, a touch, and a repetitive sin
Memorable, forgettable, like all akin.

So take me clothed, fabricated, and layered,
Take me in suede, in laid, textured and tailored,
Find me in seams, in pleats, in folds.
Unstitch me, unthread me, and
wrap me around your soul.

Weave me a tale, tie me a knot.
In yarns of hope, I yearn for naught

But you left me undressed
And you left me distressed,
Shrouded in the unknown
Of my threadbare unrest.
Carl Velasco Jul 2019
To be shaped by love, know first
How it destroys.

To know how it destroys,
Recognize love as a physical act.

To recognize love as a physical act,
Consider the body's limits and transgressions.

To consider the body's limits and transgressions,
Probe it for signs of anomaly. Of creatureness.

To probe, start by using your fingers to poke
Regions where illusions are cooked, like the groin.

To locate the groin, slither your hand from mouth
all the way down until you feel dirt.

Once there, dig. The mush will feel soft and wet and grisly
And delicious. Like exile. Feel around for a thin chord.

Once you get your hand on this chord, pull. Pull very hard.
Like you're born to unstitch. Or turn off a light. Or flush.

Your body will split open like a thick *** of paper bills
fresh off a rubber band hug. And your remains

Will flutter like a flag. Notice the bone marrow in bloodspeck
jangling in wind chime language to announce an arrival.

Your arrival, maybe. But what is left other than your body splayed
open? Notice your meatshop bargain delicacy. Limbs as vivid

As a freehand sketch artist's depiction of alive. It sounds so beautiful,
Love. Especially in Springtime.
Melissa June Jan 2017
Heavy foot steps imprinted wooden boards
though impressed by an absent soul
an isolated mind, formed of intricate cords
I am aching, bleeding through a lonesome hole

My trembling legs stand before hollow eyes
encircling me on dull rickety chairs
I unstitch the fictitious smile of my disguise
bare oppressive scares, all despairs

To mirrors of indistinguishable faces
tears seaping into the floor, for they understand
the gripping pains and benumbing embraces
the destructive limitations at hand

For our dispirited faction of slumped backs
anxiously awaiting for when the sun appears
to fade our scares, dry the floors dampened cracks
absorbing our souls of abounding tears.

By, Melissa June
Orion Schwalm Jan 2021
Dark Part of the world
Hold on
I am looking through shredded bed sheets at a sliver of open sky
                                       like it's the only exit left
                                from the cave we entered in

I am healing in this hole because I do not want to die
I am heading back to heaven but it hasn't been my time
Yet.

Open-ended ending open sky open mind not my time.
I drench my arms in gasoline and give myself a warm hug.
Hold yourself, and the child within.
I deserve I deserve I deserve this burn.
I slowly unthread the *****,
                                      showing red, showing white, showing blue.
I slip off the mittens protecting my hands,
                                       showing blood, showing bone, showing bruise.
Get a hold of yourself, you're not a child.
Grown, Growing, Gone.
I gently unstitch the seams,
                                       showing red, showing yellow, showing green.
I try again.
I try again.
I try again.
I try again.
I try again.
I try again.
I try again.
I try again.
Cut off
         The dress
                        You once
                                 Were buried
                                                      In

                                                                       Relax, Regress, Routine.

Bury the scent
              In comfortable, callous, code.
                                        Secret Secret Never Gonna Find
                                        Down in a hole in a hole in the mind
Code the key
Pretend you're okay
SeverSeverSeverSeverServerError------

Remember
That time
You opened your mouth
And breathed
The very first time

That was it.
The opening.
The exit.
The ending.
The craving.
The air.
The sky.
The dark
        space
        holding
        hugging
        cold      and        alone
                                    but not lonely.

holding everything that came before
and a sliver of lips
open to sunlight
words
hearts
sickness
medicine
fear
friendship
forgivene­ss
and all that will come
when it will.

it will.
Lynne Sep 2017
unravel my bandages
unroll my scarves
the ones that cover my scars
carefully, unstitch me.
piece by piece, undo
all that has been done.
help me lose my mind.
for the feeling of craze
is something, indeed..
i crave.

— The End —