"whiten" poems - Hello Poetry

"whiten" poems

I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus With tigery stripes, and a face on it Round as the moon, to stare up. I want to be looking at them when they come Picking among the dumb minerals, the roots. I see them already -- the pale, star-distance faces. Now they are nothing, they are not even babies. I imagine them without fathers or mothers, like the first gods. They will wonder if I was important. I should sugar and preserve my days like fruit! My mirror is clouding over -- A few more breaths, and it will reflect nothing at all. The flowers and the faces whiten to a sheet. I do not trust the spirit. It escapes like steam In dreams, through mouth-hole or eye-hole. I can't stop it. One day it won't come back. Things aren't like that. They stay, their little particular lusters Warmed by much handling. They almost purr. When the soles of my feet grow cold, The blue eye of my tortoise will comfort me. Let me have my copper cooking pots, let my rouge pots Bloom about me like night flowers, with a good smell. They will roll me up in bandages, they will store my heart Under my feet in a neat parcel. I shall hardly know myself. It will be dark, And the shine of these small things sweeter than the face of Ishtar.

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36.5k

I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus With tigery stripes, and a face on it Round as the moon, to stare up. I want to be looking at them when they come Picking among the dumb minerals, the roots. I see them already -- the pale, star-distance faces. Now they are nothing, they are not even babies. I imagine them without fathers or mothers, like the first gods. They will wonder if I was important. I should sugar and preserve my days like fruit! My mirror is clouding over -- A few more breaths, and it will reflect nothing at all. The flowers and the faces whiten to a sheet. I do not trust the spirit. It escapes like steam In dreams, through mouth-hole or eye-hole. I can't stop it. One day it won't come back. Things aren't like that. They stay, their little particular lusters Warmed by much handling. They almost purr. When the soles of my feet grow cold, The blue eye of my tortoise will comfort me. Let me have my copper cooking pots, let my rouge pots Bloom about me like night flowers, with a good smell. They will roll me up in bandages, they will store my heart Under my feet in a neat parcel. I shall hardly know myself. It will be dark, And the shine of these small things sweeter than the face of Ishtar.

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This is me apologizing. This is me finally coming up for air and coughing up apologizes instead of swallowing them down with gulps of water. This is me looking at your face and seeing the bags under your eyes because you stayed up all night trying to call me and apologizing. Looking at your nails and seeing the skin around them ****** and scabbed and the beds unevenly bitten down to nothing and apologizing. Looking at your eyes and seeing the way you bought colored contacts to cover the fact you spent days unmoving from a mirror trying to love yourself and apologizing. This is me seeing the needle points on your lips from where you injected your own blood to attempt to regain that color I claimed to be in love with and apologizing. As I'm looking at your arms and seeing where you scrubbed your skin with chemicals trying to erase the essence of me and when you smile I can see that you chugged a bottle of bleach to try and whiten your teeth bright enough so that you could be accepted by God himself into the pearly gates all I can do is apologize. I'm sorry that you spent hours carving my name into his back with your fingernails and biting your own tongue so hard it bled when he told you he loved you. When his flesh connected with yours causing the world to stop for a second and listen to your shrieking I know it was me you were screaming for and I'm sorry. As I'm standing here staring at you and watching them put brush stroke after brush stroke of blush onto your lovely pale cheeks trying to restore the life you lost so many years ago I'm finally realizing it's too late to apologize yet all I can think about is how this isn't even close to the eulogy you deserved. I should be talking about the way you danced and how your voice made my own falter momentarily and how you were more alive when you were dying than I ever will be when I'm living rather than apologizing but all I can seem to rationalize is how I spent years dry swallowing your love and spitting up knives to use to carve my initials into your thigh so you would always remember me and how I never even had the common decency to count to three before destroying you and I'm sorry. I'm afraid to look up now that I've finished apologizing because I know your empty eyes filled with nothingness will be staring back so horribly confused because I doubt you ever continued listening after I used the world eulogy and I'm sure you're going to wonder why I'm talking as if I'm sitting at your funeral rather than on the end of your bed but I don't know how else to make you grasp the concept of what you're doing to yourself by loving me in a better way than this and I'm sorry. C.a.l

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Feb 9, 2015

Feb 9, 2015 at 7:21 PM UTC

This is me apologizing. This is me finally coming up for air and coughing up apologizes instead of swallowing them down with gulps of water. This is me looking at your face and seeing the bags under your eyes because you stayed up all night trying to call me and apologizing. Looking at your nails and seeing the skin around them ****** and scabbed and the beds unevenly bitten down to nothing and apologizing. Looking at your eyes and seeing the way you bought colored contacts to cover the fact you spent days unmoving from a mirror trying to love yourself and apologizing. This is me seeing the needle points on your lips from where you injected your own blood to attempt to regain that color I claimed to be in love with and apologizing. As I'm looking at your arms and seeing where you scrubbed your skin with chemicals trying to erase the essence of me and when you smile I can see that you chugged a bottle of bleach to try and whiten your teeth bright enough so that you could be accepted by God himself into the pearly gates all I can do is apologize. I'm sorry that you spent hours carving my name into his back with your fingernails and biting your own tongue so hard it bled when he told you he loved you. When his flesh connected with yours causing the world to stop for a second and listen to your shrieking I know it was me you were screaming for and I'm sorry. As I'm standing here staring at you and watching them put brush stroke after brush stroke of blush onto your lovely pale cheeks trying to restore the life you lost so many years ago I'm finally realizing it's too late to apologize yet all I can think about is how this isn't even close to the eulogy you deserved. I should be talking about the way you danced and how your voice made my own falter momentarily and how you were more alive when you were dying than I ever will be when I'm living rather than apologizing but all I can seem to rationalize is how I spent years dry swallowing your love and spitting up knives to use to carve my initials into your thigh so you would always remember me and how I never even had the common decency to count to three before destroying you and I'm sorry. I'm afraid to look up now that I've finished apologizing because I know your empty eyes filled with nothingness will be staring back so horribly confused because I doubt you ever continued listening after I used the world eulogy and I'm sure you're going to wonder why I'm talking as if I'm sitting at your funeral rather than on the end of your bed but I don't know how else to make you grasp the concept of what you're doing to yourself by loving me in a better way than this and I'm sorry. C.a.l

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I am a white, Jewish girl from Florida. Hit me. Hit me with your white girl jokes, Your Jewish American Princess stereotypes. I will giggle and squeal right along with you. Because yeah, I do order white chocolate mocha frappuchinos from Starbucks, I Instagram pictures of my nails, I take selfies, whiten my teeth, straighten my hair, Shop at Forever21 and drink Naked Juice like it is my job. Yeah, my daddy buys me things, I don’t pay for my data plan, There’s no way in hell I would drive a sedan, I wear Nike shorts and avoid any nearby cameraman, And let me tell you, I love jamming out to old school Britney Spears. Hit me one more time, because none of that means I am any less intelligent, Any less diligent, Any less likely to face judgment Than any other slice of diversity around me – I am a white, Jewish girl My nose is not its own cartoon, I eat bagels (but I absolutely hate lox), I’m not tan or even the least bit tinted, And god knows I don’t wear Uggs. Tell me I need to get married young, Major in business, Wear clothes that leave me airless, Get some of that European gracefulness, But don’t tell me I’m dumb. Don’t tell me I’m not thoughtful. I’m a white girl. Take a glance at my resourcefulness, Understand my goals of being ambitious, Get rid of your own stereotype-inducing cockiness, And notice me in all of my flawlessness. Because I am a white girl, And I am unique, strong, inventive, Empowered, passionate, adventurous, Indomitable, unbeatable. I am an individual – Not part of some whole that you put me in to stabilize your mold, Not the example of a societally scatterbrained ***** meant to be your centerfold, Not a previously worn-out piece of clothing thrown to the gutter unsold, Rather a human being of my own rules and my own morals A human being with ideas and intelligence and power, A white, Jewish girl, A person.

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Nov 21, 2013

Nov 21, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC

I am a white, Jewish girl from Florida. Hit me. Hit me with your white girl jokes, Your Jewish American Princess stereotypes. I will giggle and squeal right along with you. Because yeah, I do order white chocolate mocha frappuchinos from Starbucks, I Instagram pictures of my nails, I take selfies, whiten my teeth, straighten my hair, Shop at Forever21 and drink Naked Juice like it is my job. Yeah, my daddy buys me things, I don’t pay for my data plan, There’s no way in hell I would drive a sedan, I wear Nike shorts and avoid any nearby cameraman, And let me tell you, I love jamming out to old school Britney Spears. Hit me one more time, because none of that means I am any less intelligent, Any less diligent, Any less likely to face judgment Than any other slice of diversity around me – I am a white, Jewish girl My nose is not its own cartoon, I eat bagels (but I absolutely hate lox), I’m not tan or even the least bit tinted, And god knows I don’t wear Uggs. Tell me I need to get married young, Major in business, Wear clothes that leave me airless, Get some of that European gracefulness, But don’t tell me I’m dumb. Don’t tell me I’m not thoughtful. I’m a white girl. Take a glance at my resourcefulness, Understand my goals of being ambitious, Get rid of your own stereotype-inducing cockiness, And notice me in all of my flawlessness. Because I am a white girl, And I am unique, strong, inventive, Empowered, passionate, adventurous, Indomitable, unbeatable. I am an individual – Not part of some whole that you put me in to stabilize your mold, Not the example of a societally scatterbrained ***** meant to be your centerfold, Not a previously worn-out piece of clothing thrown to the gutter unsold, Rather a human being of my own rules and my own morals A human being with ideas and intelligence and power, A white, Jewish girl, A person.

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The horizons ring me like ******* Tilted and disparate, and always unstable. Touched by a match, they might warm me, And their fine lines singe The air to orange Before the distances they pin evaporate, Weighting the pale sky with a soldier color. But they only dissolve and dissolve Like a series of promises, as I step forward. There is no life higher than the grasstops Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind Pours by like destiny, bending Everything in one direction. I can feel it trying To funnel my heat away. If I pay the roots of the heather Too close attention, they will invite me To whiten my bones among them. The sheep know where they are, Browsing in their ***** wool-clouds, Gray as the weather. The black slots of their pupils take me in. It is like being mailed into space, A thin, silly message. They stand about in grandmotherly disguise, All wig curls and yellow teeth And hard, marbly baas. I come to wheel ruts, and water Limpid as the solitudes That flee through my fingers. Hollow doorsteps go from grass to grass; Lintel and sill have unhinged themselves. Of people and the air only Remembers a few odd syllables. It rehearses them moaningly: Black stone, black stone. The sky leans on me, me, the one upright Among all horizontals. The grass is beating its head distractedly. It is too delicate For a life in such company; Darkness terrifies it. Now, in valleys narrow And black as purses, the house lights Gleam like small change.

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3.3k

Wuthering Heights

The horizons ring me like ******* Tilted and disparate, and always unstable. Touched by a match, they might warm me, And their fine lines singe The air to orange Before the distances they pin evaporate, Weighting the pale sky with a soldier color. But they only dissolve and dissolve Like a series of promises, as I step forward. There is no life higher than the grasstops Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind Pours by like destiny, bending Everything in one direction. I can feel it trying To funnel my heat away. If I pay the roots of the heather Too close attention, they will invite me To whiten my bones among them. The sheep know where they are, Browsing in their ***** wool-clouds, Gray as the weather. The black slots of their pupils take me in. It is like being mailed into space, A thin, silly message. They stand about in grandmotherly disguise, All wig curls and yellow teeth And hard, marbly baas. I come to wheel ruts, and water Limpid as the solitudes That flee through my fingers. Hollow doorsteps go from grass to grass; Lintel and sill have unhinged themselves. Of people and the air only Remembers a few odd syllables. It rehearses them moaningly: Black stone, black stone. The sky leans on me, me, the one upright Among all horizontals. The grass is beating its head distractedly. It is too delicate For a life in such company; Darkness terrifies it. Now, in valleys narrow And black as purses, the house lights Gleam like small change.

Continue reading...

The horizons ring me like ******* Tilted and disparate, and always unstable. Touched by a match, they might warm me, And their fine lines singe The air to orange Before the distances they pin evaporate, Weighting the pale sky with a soldier color. But they only dissolve and dissolve Like a series of promises, as I step forward. There is no life higher than the grasstops Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind Pours by like destiny, bending Everything in one direction. I can feel it trying To funnel my heat away. If I pay the roots of the heather Too close attention, they will invite me To whiten my bones among them. The sheep know where they are, Browsing in their ***** wool-clouds, Gray as the weather. The black slots of their pupils take me in. It is like being mailed into space, A thin, silly message. They stand about in grandmotherly disguise, All wig curls and yellow teeth And hard, marbly baas. I come to wheel ruts, and water Limpid as the solitudes That flee through my fingers. Hollow doorsteps go from grass to grass; Lintel and sill have unhinged themselves. Of people and the air only Remembers a few odd syllables. It rehearses them moaningly: Black stone, black stone. The sky leans on me, me, the one upright Among all horizontals. The grass is beating its head distractedly. It is too delicate For a life in such company; Darkness terrifies it. Now, in valleys narrow And black as purses, the house lights Gleam like small change.

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2.9k

Wuthering Heights

The horizons ring me like ******* Tilted and disparate, and always unstable. Touched by a match, they might warm me, And their fine lines singe The air to orange Before the distances they pin evaporate, Weighting the pale sky with a soldier color. But they only dissolve and dissolve Like a series of promises, as I step forward. There is no life higher than the grasstops Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind Pours by like destiny, bending Everything in one direction. I can feel it trying To funnel my heat away. If I pay the roots of the heather Too close attention, they will invite me To whiten my bones among them. The sheep know where they are, Browsing in their ***** wool-clouds, Gray as the weather. The black slots of their pupils take me in. It is like being mailed into space, A thin, silly message. They stand about in grandmotherly disguise, All wig curls and yellow teeth And hard, marbly baas. I come to wheel ruts, and water Limpid as the solitudes That flee through my fingers. Hollow doorsteps go from grass to grass; Lintel and sill have unhinged themselves. Of people and the air only Remembers a few odd syllables. It rehearses them moaningly: Black stone, black stone. The sky leans on me, me, the one upright Among all horizontals. The grass is beating its head distractedly. It is too delicate For a life in such company; Darkness terrifies it. Now, in valleys narrow And black as purses, the house lights Gleam like small change.

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I SHALL cry God to give me a broken foot. I shall ask for a scar and a slashed nose. I shall take the last and the worst. I shall be eaten by gray creepers in a bunkhouse where no runners of the sun come and no dogs live. And yet-of all "and yets" this is the bronze strongest- I shall keep one thing better than all else; there is the blue steel of a great star of early evening in it; it lives longer than a broken foot or any scar. The broken foot goes to a hole dug with a shovel or the bone of a nose may whiten on a hilltop-and yet-"and yet"- There is one crimson pinch of ashes left after all; and none of the shifting winds that whip the grass and none of the pounding rains that beat the dust, know how to touch or find the flash of this crimson. I cry God to give me a broken foot, a scar, or a lousy death. I who have seen the flash of this crimson, I ask God for the last and worst.

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1.9k

I SHALL cry God to give me a broken foot. I shall ask for a scar and a slashed nose. I shall take the last and the worst. I shall be eaten by gray creepers in a bunkhouse where no runners of the sun come and no dogs live. And yet-of all "and yets" this is the bronze strongest- I shall keep one thing better than all else; there is the blue steel of a great star of early evening in it; it lives longer than a broken foot or any scar. The broken foot goes to a hole dug with a shovel or the bone of a nose may whiten on a hilltop-and yet-"and yet"- There is one crimson pinch of ashes left after all; and none of the shifting winds that whip the grass and none of the pounding rains that beat the dust, know how to touch or find the flash of this crimson. I cry God to give me a broken foot, a scar, or a lousy death. I who have seen the flash of this crimson, I ask God for the last and worst.

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It’s been twelve years Since I refused to sell my soul To the devil Not for all the wealth Not for all the gold He slid a piece of paper in front of me Eyes bulging He said, Boy if you want to make it here You better listen to what I say What others say matters It’s the word on the ground Do you need that wife Do you need your friends around? And I said: no, that’s not me I can only give so much I am who I am I’d never sell myself To please someone Who can never be pleased. My friends have always been there My family laid down for this land I’m not going to be what you want I’m not going to whiten my teeth Or lose a couple of pounds Because a country boy is all I’ll ever be A rattlesnake in the grass Saying: ‘don’t you tread on me’

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May 26, 2012

May 26, 2012 at 5:15 AM UTC

Temptation from Silicon Valley

It’s been twelve years Since I refused to sell my soul To the devil Not for all the wealth Not for all the gold He slid a piece of paper in front of me Eyes bulging He said, Boy if you want to make it here You better listen to what I say What others say matters It’s the word on the ground Do you need that wife Do you need your friends around? And I said: no, that’s not me I can only give so much I am who I am I’d never sell myself To please someone Who can never be pleased. My friends have always been there My family laid down for this land I’m not going to be what you want I’m not going to whiten my teeth Or lose a couple of pounds Because a country boy is all I’ll ever be A rattlesnake in the grass Saying: ‘don’t you tread on me’

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Sun-swept beaches with a light wind blowing From the immense blue circle of the sea, And the soft thunder where long waves whiten — These were the same for Sappho as for me. Two thousand years—much has gone by forever, Change takes the gods and ships and speech of men — But here on the beaches that time passes over The heart aches now as then.

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1.5k

Sun-swept beaches with a light wind blowing From the immense blue circle of the sea, And the soft thunder where long waves whiten — These were the same for Sappho as for me. Two thousand years—much has gone by forever, Change takes the gods and ships and speech of men — But here on the beaches that time passes over The heart aches now as then.

Continue reading...

Iced tea watered down Sandy remnants whiten my teeth I'm just a copy of a copy My page is faded Every leaf average Agitated, you The right kind of complicated You look like desire To you I'm admired My smile is fake Your love is fake This date is fake My can't you just fake it? Yes you like that Oh my, it's true Iced tea watered down Sandy remnants whiten my teeth I'm just a copy of a copy My page is faded Every leaf average

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Sep 26, 2014

Sep 26, 2014 at 3:39 AM UTC

Iced tea watered down Sandy remnants whiten my teeth I'm just a copy of a copy My page is faded Every leaf average Agitated, you The right kind of complicated You look like desire To you I'm admired My smile is fake Your love is fake This date is fake My can't you just fake it? Yes you like that Oh my, it's true Iced tea watered down Sandy remnants whiten my teeth I'm just a copy of a copy My page is faded Every leaf average

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Turn out the lights catch the night’s bequest Train your eyes on the horizon sunrise is approaching Notice how blue is shading from deep to pale There are no shadows Cast by the moon Hiding behind the clouds Sounds reverberate from an airplane drifting to a landing Morning’s quiet regains the stage Until a Robin chirps a wake-up call Sunrise is approaching advancing from east to west lighting the sky Rocks whiten to become obvious against the pallid grass of winter robbed of nutrition by the cold of January No orb announces today the sun is rising, although hidden behind dense condensation The orange orb of the sun will not flood the skyline The fever of night has become the pale of the day

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May 3, 2025

May 3, 2025 at 1:57 PM UTC

william-a-poppen

An Unspectacular Beginning

Turn out the lights catch the night’s bequest Train your eyes on the horizon sunrise is approaching Notice how blue is shading from deep to pale There are no shadows Cast by the moon Hiding behind the clouds Sounds reverberate from an airplane drifting to a landing Morning’s quiet regains the stage Until a Robin chirps a wake-up call Sunrise is approaching advancing from east to west lighting the sky Rocks whiten to become obvious against the pallid grass of winter robbed of nutrition by the cold of January No orb announces today the sun is rising, although hidden behind dense condensation The orange orb of the sun will not flood the skyline The fever of night has become the pale of the day

Continue reading...

Turn out the lights catch the night’s bequest Train your eyes on the horizon sunrise is approaching Notice how blue is shading from deep to pale There are no shadows Cast by the moon Hiding behind the clouds Sounds reverberate from an airplane drifting to a landing Morning’s quiet regains the stage Until a Robin chirps a wake-up call Sunrise is approaching advancing from east to west lighting the sky Rocks whiten to become obvious against the pallid grass of winter robbed of nutrition by the cold of January No orb announces today the sun is rising although hidden behind dense condensation The orange orb of the sun will not flood the skyline The fever of night has become the pale of the day

0

Jan 13, 2021

Jan 13, 2021 at 11:23 AM UTC

william-a-poppen

An Unspectacular Beginning

Turn out the lights catch the night’s bequest Train your eyes on the horizon sunrise is approaching Notice how blue is shading from deep to pale There are no shadows Cast by the moon Hiding behind the clouds Sounds reverberate from an airplane drifting to a landing Morning’s quiet regains the stage Until a Robin chirps a wake-up call Sunrise is approaching advancing from east to west lighting the sky Rocks whiten to become obvious against the pallid grass of winter robbed of nutrition by the cold of January No orb announces today the sun is rising although hidden behind dense condensation The orange orb of the sun will not flood the skyline The fever of night has become the pale of the day

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Let your hair wither to wheat, ***** what you eat, but always whiten your teeth. Marry not twice, nor thrice, but the fourth man that hits your daughter, send her to live with her ignorant father.

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Jan 13, 2013

Jan 13, 2013 at 5:03 AM UTC

A guide to be a mother

Let your hair wither to wheat, ***** what you eat, but always whiten your teeth. Marry not twice, nor thrice, but the fourth man that hits your daughter, send her to live with her ignorant father.

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The heart is wondering if there's a place for the soul on earth That Could heal those blisters Could whiten the tar black soul Could render heart paradise The heart is wondering Where have you been? I'm a chess player loses it's King I'm a bird without it's wing Homeros Like the odyssey on shelf Rotten Ancient Invisible cloak I cover Queen in a Kingdom of Isolation

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Apr 14, 2014

Apr 14, 2014 at 8:25 AM UTC

The heart is wondering if there's a place for the soul on earth That Could heal those blisters Could whiten the tar black soul Could render heart paradise The heart is wondering Where have you been? I'm a chess player loses it's King I'm a bird without it's wing Homeros Like the odyssey on shelf Rotten Ancient Invisible cloak I cover Queen in a Kingdom of Isolation

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I think I drank a tube of Amortentia. The most powerful love potion in the world. Rumored to smell different to each person by what they're attracted to. Scents fill my nose. Sunshine absorbed in your skin; the smell of outdoors- air, leaves, trees, grass; soap used to wash away dirt and secrets; laundry detergent to remove stains from your clothes; minty toothpaste to whiten pearls; and shampoo to remove oils from your wavy strands. Sometimes a hint of chlorine from your shower's water tank. The smells overpowers me and I float on scents that seem to get me high. I think I drank a tube of Amortentia.

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Jan 19, 2014

Jan 19, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC

I think I drank a tube of Amortentia. The most powerful love potion in the world. Rumored to smell different to each person by what they're attracted to. Scents fill my nose. Sunshine absorbed in your skin; the smell of outdoors- air, leaves, trees, grass; soap used to wash away dirt and secrets; laundry detergent to remove stains from your clothes; minty toothpaste to whiten pearls; and shampoo to remove oils from your wavy strands. Sometimes a hint of chlorine from your shower's water tank. The smells overpowers me and I float on scents that seem to get me high. I think I drank a tube of Amortentia.

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i live life like i'm dying everyday days pass and time slinks away cheeks hollow and lips whiten eyes that fill with tears too easy now glazed over with pain i live life like i'm dying everyday fingers numb and gaze that stares ahead nails that grip down like i'm on the edge leaving crescent marks in its wake blood that rises but never breaks the surface i live life like i'm dying everyday each peal of laughter a melody for my deathbed every smile and grin leaving me dead i crave scars like words carved into my tombstone sharpening the knife so my heart can beat again i live life like i'm dying everyday i scream silently curled up against porcelain vomiting out molecules that were meant to be digested but each glance at the mirror makes me feel less than ideal fingers clutching the porcelain bowl offering my dinner to the demons instead i live life like i'm dying everyday when my heart thumps irregular and the pain won't go away hiding under covers from the monster no longer underneath the bed but within me instead i live life like i'm dying everyday when tears fall and i hold my breath trying not to lose it all i grip the knife and press it against my chest my heart oddly silent accepting our death i live life like i'm dying everyday a broken marionette who's own thoughts i cannot obey the demon inside of me flips an hourglass and counts away counting down each breath that i take i live life like i'm dying everyday no one hears the screams and cries of no one but a fourteen year old who's mind is too old heart too much in pain wishing her bed was a casket instead.

0

Aug 30, 2014

Aug 30, 2014 at 11:57 PM UTC

i live life like i'm dying everyday days pass and time slinks away cheeks hollow and lips whiten eyes that fill with tears too easy now glazed over with pain i live life like i'm dying everyday fingers numb and gaze that stares ahead nails that grip down like i'm on the edge leaving crescent marks in its wake blood that rises but never breaks the surface i live life like i'm dying everyday each peal of laughter a melody for my deathbed every smile and grin leaving me dead i crave scars like words carved into my tombstone sharpening the knife so my heart can beat again i live life like i'm dying everyday i scream silently curled up against porcelain vomiting out molecules that were meant to be digested but each glance at the mirror makes me feel less than ideal fingers clutching the porcelain bowl offering my dinner to the demons instead i live life like i'm dying everyday when my heart thumps irregular and the pain won't go away hiding under covers from the monster no longer underneath the bed but within me instead i live life like i'm dying everyday when tears fall and i hold my breath trying not to lose it all i grip the knife and press it against my chest my heart oddly silent accepting our death i live life like i'm dying everyday a broken marionette who's own thoughts i cannot obey the demon inside of me flips an hourglass and counts away counting down each breath that i take i live life like i'm dying everyday no one hears the screams and cries of no one but a fourteen year old who's mind is too old heart too much in pain wishing her bed was a casket instead.

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“Poetry’s for poofters, innit?” A square jaw thrustwobbling out of sagging jowls to menace my airspace. The first assault, olfactory. Saliva hops into my bitter dominion. Draw breath, draw back as knuckles whiten and eyes glaze with a lust for ****** architecture. “Excuse me, I think I left my car headlights on.”

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Feb 20, 2015

Feb 20, 2015 at 3:43 AM UTC

“Poetry’s for poofters, innit?” A square jaw thrustwobbling out of sagging jowls to menace my airspace. The first assault, olfactory. Saliva hops into my bitter dominion. Draw breath, draw back as knuckles whiten and eyes glaze with a lust for ****** architecture. “Excuse me, I think I left my car headlights on.”

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liver is nothing new but liberty is a finer stew james of the woods john of the cage rest in these glades for awhile for rest stops abound only on a southbound train heading nowhere near your destination you undress the millions of dollars you have hidden in your sneakers your feet are bankers and your shoes undertakers remnants of the ancient soul drown in the pounding rain you whiten your hair in the snow and wipe off the dust and dirt that’s gathered round the stove frozen like compound interest between two relative fingerprints this mist is just as close as your nose and your feet are two dancing elephants engaged in drunken rhetoric they fund two lumpy stockings with a legacy of coal and **** these empty cottages rented in the heat of summer till the blackest ashes turn white you churn the butter through the dampness of the night until the rose of morning is ready to ignite the flight of the seagull comes with no warning and the sound of a star falling is what whets your appetite

0

Oct 17, 2018

Oct 17, 2018 at 12:05 PM UTC

ganesha-michael-shapiro

liver is nothing new but liberty is a finer stew james of the woods john of the cage rest in these glades for awhile for rest stops abound only on a southbound train heading nowhere near your destination you undress the millions of dollars you have hidden in your sneakers your feet are bankers and your shoes undertakers remnants of the ancient soul drown in the pounding rain you whiten your hair in the snow and wipe off the dust and dirt that’s gathered round the stove frozen like compound interest between two relative fingerprints this mist is just as close as your nose and your feet are two dancing elephants engaged in drunken rhetoric they fund two lumpy stockings with a legacy of coal and **** these empty cottages rented in the heat of summer till the blackest ashes turn white you churn the butter through the dampness of the night until the rose of morning is ready to ignite the flight of the seagull comes with no warning and the sound of a star falling is what whets your appetite

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the room is empty as a smile, walls that stand blank as eyes waiting for truth as i fumble for stolen words and like children they spill from outstretched palms. a gift to the gutters, a gift to the gods who laugh in my wake, inviting me to whiten my bones among them, among their house of trees and their all-knowing shadows. landlocked words that sit stagnant in my muscles, whimpering in cold corners and clamoring at whitewashed windows. i want them, not the labor, not the anesthetics, but the small, pink-lipped baby of them. words like garbage, words like paper Mache, or as silent as both. they are maddening, porcelain, but they are mine to nurture, mine to cure, mine to hold.

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Jun 8, 2012

Jun 8, 2012 at 10:00 AM UTC

the room is empty as a smile, walls that stand blank as eyes waiting for truth as i fumble for stolen words and like children they spill from outstretched palms. a gift to the gutters, a gift to the gods who laugh in my wake, inviting me to whiten my bones among them, among their house of trees and their all-knowing shadows. landlocked words that sit stagnant in my muscles, whimpering in cold corners and clamoring at whitewashed windows. i want them, not the labor, not the anesthetics, but the small, pink-lipped baby of them. words like garbage, words like paper Mache, or as silent as both. they are maddening, porcelain, but they are mine to nurture, mine to cure, mine to hold.

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Walking down the street with hungry eyes Dare not to daydream, I fantasize Fingers coiled tightly round her throat Compulsive urge to never let her go Off-key voices ringing in my head Filling me with existential dread Chills me to the bone - burns me alive The twisted creature I keep locked inside Stiletto heels echo in the distance through the stillness of the air The ghetto feels the path of least resistance so I head through there She's drunk and all alone stumbling about The prey dressed up in heels & cocktail gown There's no way she's really this naive Could this be the girl of my dreams? Knuckles whiten, liquor on my breath Fixated on the heaving of her chest She hears me as her eyes widen in fear Suddenly it all becomes so clear Muffled screams and scraping feet fall silent on the city street I feel her horrified heartbeat as I drag her off the cold concrete Breaking the straps on her tight black dress Sinking my fangs deep into her flesh Draining her of all the will to fight She goes limp in my arms She's mine tonight Sated now, I set her free But she'll always belong to me Like me, she bears the Mark of Cain Her soul eternally blood stained Like me, she bears the Mark of Cain Cursed to darkness and immortal pain We are bound by blood forever now In darkness we forever drown Accursed Children of the Night Forgotten by the World of Light

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May 2, 2015

May 2, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC

Walking down the street with hungry eyes Dare not to daydream, I fantasize Fingers coiled tightly round her throat Compulsive urge to never let her go Off-key voices ringing in my head Filling me with existential dread Chills me to the bone - burns me alive The twisted creature I keep locked inside Stiletto heels echo in the distance through the stillness of the air The ghetto feels the path of least resistance so I head through there She's drunk and all alone stumbling about The prey dressed up in heels & cocktail gown There's no way she's really this naive Could this be the girl of my dreams? Knuckles whiten, liquor on my breath Fixated on the heaving of her chest She hears me as her eyes widen in fear Suddenly it all becomes so clear Muffled screams and scraping feet fall silent on the city street I feel her horrified heartbeat as I drag her off the cold concrete Breaking the straps on her tight black dress Sinking my fangs deep into her flesh Draining her of all the will to fight She goes limp in my arms She's mine tonight Sated now, I set her free But she'll always belong to me Like me, she bears the Mark of Cain Her soul eternally blood stained Like me, she bears the Mark of Cain Cursed to darkness and immortal pain We are bound by blood forever now In darkness we forever drown Accursed Children of the Night Forgotten by the World of Light

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They once loved him and soon tied their whim but forsakenness spurned so early to tender their mulberry that a night as bold in toe where a fleece of whiten civility thus foretold their lamb.

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Feb 6, 2017

Feb 6, 2017 at 8:14 AM UTC

They once loved him and soon tied their whim but forsakenness spurned so early to tender their mulberry that a night as bold in toe where a fleece of whiten civility thus foretold their lamb.

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the female adolescent is beautiful in black and white colour loses depth we see everything like a small puppy isn't the what you want? innocence? naive little girls who can't hold their own? who can barely stand on their own two feet? the female is a miraculous creature she carries herself like a feather on a cool breeze maybe because she's so frail & the wind is so loud oh the feeling of hunger pains on a cold winter morning wondering if maybe im small enough now to feel the wind in my bones freezing my enamel wondering how many calories are in toothpaste or the bleach we swish around in our mouths to whiten our teeth we eat pills for breakfast anti-depressant Prozac laxatives Xanax and hair & nail supplements so we can look beautiful while dying dabbling in hobbies like shopping buying makeup fainting while walking to the bus stop hunching over the toilet while top model plays in the background shaming our metabolisms for not being able to burn through a tic tac fast enough yelling at our doctors for claiming that our "hearts are too big for such a small body" boys think we dumb ourselves down to make ourselves more appealing little do they know the number of times we bang on our heads to knock out the unclean thoughts like food or sleep how our brain cells die each time we slap away our frowns & replace them with painted smiles small dumb Barbie dolls plastic easily ripped apart we hide our pain with concealer bruised from bumping into counters purple knees carrying a rubber band for months till that rubber band is carrying us slapping our wrists to warrant authority because beauty has power over everything measuring the space between our thighs yanking at the skin that will never leave measuring the space between the blade and our wrists remembering that scars will only make it worse measuring the space between now and never realizing life is a thing realizing life would be better without you realizing you haven't weighed yourself today gathering your fears in mason jars collecting your tears & mailing them to places far, far away the female adolescent is beautiful but only in black and white

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Dec 5, 2015

Dec 5, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC

olivia-grace-may

the female adolescent is beautiful in black and white colour loses depth we see everything like a small puppy isn't the what you want? innocence? naive little girls who can't hold their own? who can barely stand on their own two feet? the female is a miraculous creature she carries herself like a feather on a cool breeze maybe because she's so frail & the wind is so loud oh the feeling of hunger pains on a cold winter morning wondering if maybe im small enough now to feel the wind in my bones freezing my enamel wondering how many calories are in toothpaste or the bleach we swish around in our mouths to whiten our teeth we eat pills for breakfast anti-depressant Prozac laxatives Xanax and hair & nail supplements so we can look beautiful while dying dabbling in hobbies like shopping buying makeup fainting while walking to the bus stop hunching over the toilet while top model plays in the background shaming our metabolisms for not being able to burn through a tic tac fast enough yelling at our doctors for claiming that our "hearts are too big for such a small body" boys think we dumb ourselves down to make ourselves more appealing little do they know the number of times we bang on our heads to knock out the unclean thoughts like food or sleep how our brain cells die each time we slap away our frowns & replace them with painted smiles small dumb Barbie dolls plastic easily ripped apart we hide our pain with concealer bruised from bumping into counters purple knees carrying a rubber band for months till that rubber band is carrying us slapping our wrists to warrant authority because beauty has power over everything measuring the space between our thighs yanking at the skin that will never leave measuring the space between the blade and our wrists remembering that scars will only make it worse measuring the space between now and never realizing life is a thing realizing life would be better without you realizing you haven't weighed yourself today gathering your fears in mason jars collecting your tears & mailing them to places far, far away the female adolescent is beautiful but only in black and white

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I am a feminist Feeling fenced in in a gender binary fenced in a ****** binary so people dismiss my Bi No ally can stop that without listening Listen with your ears and if you can't hear listen with your eyes. Know that I don't need to prove my Bi Yemen child brides, committing homicide building graveyards inside of themselves Acid attacks, police and blacks **** is asked for Jews are gassed more Conversion therapy People can't see through the Trans*parency Gender roles wrapped up into us Making us feel trapped making us adapt A is not for Allys A is for Ace or Aro Thrown with a bow I miss the target cast into the shadow Lesbians are loved stripped down but not in the gown appreciated more with their mouths shut and no ones mind open They chose to be blind not see with their eyes hear with your ears hear the gunshot or the scream from the queer kid who is bleeding, smiles were misleading thought they were happy Thats because we stigmatize mental illness I feel the stillness of progress My anxiety is as bad as the start I've been told that l'm not being smart but I know my voice is a work of art We whitewash the shadow using bleach to whiten skin drinking bleach when that skin isn't light to begin I am a feminist

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Aug 15, 2018

Aug 15, 2018 at 6:40 PM UTC

I am a feminist Feeling fenced in in a gender binary fenced in a ****** binary so people dismiss my Bi No ally can stop that without listening Listen with your ears and if you can't hear listen with your eyes. Know that I don't need to prove my Bi Yemen child brides, committing homicide building graveyards inside of themselves Acid attacks, police and blacks **** is asked for Jews are gassed more Conversion therapy People can't see through the Trans*parency Gender roles wrapped up into us Making us feel trapped making us adapt A is not for Allys A is for Ace or Aro Thrown with a bow I miss the target cast into the shadow Lesbians are loved stripped down but not in the gown appreciated more with their mouths shut and no ones mind open They chose to be blind not see with their eyes hear with your ears hear the gunshot or the scream from the queer kid who is bleeding, smiles were misleading thought they were happy Thats because we stigmatize mental illness I feel the stillness of progress My anxiety is as bad as the start I've been told that l'm not being smart but I know my voice is a work of art We whitewash the shadow using bleach to whiten skin drinking bleach when that skin isn't light to begin I am a feminist

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I notice her. I watch her press on her nails And whiten her teeth, Put on that bleaching emulsion before she goes to sleep. She has thick braids, pinched into her tender scalp Then has Brazilian hair woven in on top of that. I see her look in the mirror satisfied because she now sees beauty, She purses her painted lips, Closes her eyes as if her looks are her duty To this world, That she so desperately wants to fit into and stand out of. This magnificent girl, Who's capabilities are unheard of. She suffocates her essence To be accepted in facades presence. I notice you darling, in spite of your recrudescence. T.S.

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Sep 9, 2013

Sep 9, 2013 at 9:51 AM UTC

I notice her. I watch her press on her nails And whiten her teeth, Put on that bleaching emulsion before she goes to sleep. She has thick braids, pinched into her tender scalp Then has Brazilian hair woven in on top of that. I see her look in the mirror satisfied because she now sees beauty, She purses her painted lips, Closes her eyes as if her looks are her duty To this world, That she so desperately wants to fit into and stand out of. This magnificent girl, Who's capabilities are unheard of. She suffocates her essence To be accepted in facades presence. I notice you darling, in spite of your recrudescence. T.S.

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Tearing through me uncontrollable pain ripping and tearing shredding my very soul tears of blood as red as the rose petals scattered around trace through the whiten skin blue eyes bloodshot and wide staring into the neverending darkness the demons of hell leaching all that is good leaving the ugly stain of pain and anger death the final end nevercoming a living hell consuming all that is good blacker and blacker the stain spreads leaving a soul as mouldy and maggoty as a corpse Unstoppable Neverending.

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Oct 9, 2010

Oct 9, 2010 at 7:04 AM UTC

lizzie-johansson-hartley

Tearing through me uncontrollable pain ripping and tearing shredding my very soul tears of blood as red as the rose petals scattered around trace through the whiten skin blue eyes bloodshot and wide staring into the neverending darkness the demons of hell leaching all that is good leaving the ugly stain of pain and anger death the final end nevercoming a living hell consuming all that is good blacker and blacker the stain spreads leaving a soul as mouldy and maggoty as a corpse Unstoppable Neverending.

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