Not you, but meNot you, but meI've crossed every stone,A trail through the bay to your heart.Tossed among sunken ships,Just a wreck in your deepest harbor.You're the coral I cut my knee onAnd the salt in its wound.I swam over you at low tide,Should have known not to.Torn at the seam,No comfort in the folds.Just an old towel hanging outOn the porch to dry.I'm a stagnant bay,sand trapped under my tongue.No words to undo.You drew a line as youwalked away from me.Further and further,A distant island hidden by the clouds.
homeMy heart is tetheredbetween wrought ironand quick tempersIn the house, a man was waiting:silver skin, sharp chineating the remains with his corbeau mouthMy cloaked heart slips through the gate,and past March, April, Junemy palms are stained with the smell of rust,dust and rotting wood under my tongue,unopened mail behind each ribWhat's heavy will hurt.I took a small boat awayHalf way thereI lost my oars(abandoned)Flung and tossed like a childinto the channel"Are you afraid of what's below?"you're just froth below the horizon.you're just a speck in timeThe dark whale should swallow me whole,but instead I lay my head in the day's end,like resting on warm thighsMy mother's own.
An owlWhen I was youngerWe moved into the new housemy father built.In the evening an owl flew in.With heavy wingsit threatened us,cutting through the darkwith hardly any room for flight.My sister and Iheld our breathand played dead until myfather came home.When he saw us he laughedwhile we lay stilland then opened all the windowsto let it fly out.
deservethe poisoned branch,I pulled myself up onto see another.now an ant nest in my heartyou stepped in andleft distraught.
By myselfWhen I'm aloneI steal pieces of night.Without another to share,I eat by myself.The meat is spoilt.Only acid in my throat when I wake.
wolfYou resemblesomeone I once knew.A wolf in the darkpressed against my window again.
the netI'm rot.Was sliced at the gill,thrown near the rocksunder sun and flies.Flesh exposed, a little girl with no t shirt on.Dead amongst scavengers.lost my armor all scattered likeand soaked into the stone.Swam into the net.Thought it would get me there fast.
KnivesknivesMy life through the glass,a million pieces scattered (splinters in my thumbs)A spectrum (colours of fear)Forced through me like knives.Here, smoke and doubt intersects false light.A journey queued. Where I had begun.This time aloneWhat am I fighting for?
:apart:Home again today.Where there is no relief.Not to slowly kiss.Once here was my love to fall into,now my days are just steep.Tonight I sleep alone.and time did not settle me.
five things they don't teach you in highschool1.it's okay to fall in love.i mean, they tell you you're never goingto marry your high school sweetheart and i'm not goingto tell you it's a liebecause it's not. you guys will probablybreak up and is gonna hurt like hellbut you'll be okay. remember, you are not the only onewho has felt loneliness like a knife,the only one to know the pain of lungs collapsingbecause they were your air,and you will never be the only one who whispered"i love you" two lives too soon.you will not be the last one to have tuckedhair behind their ear and leaned in for a kissor the last one to wake up reaching for a hand that's no longer there.but it's okay.2.your favorite book will not always be your favorite.like you, it will change over timeto something unrecognizablethat gives you only a vague nostalgia in the tips of your fingers.flipping through the pages will neverfeel the same again.you will learn to love something new;your next favorite will teach you something about you
Yes, I Have a PenisYes, I Have A PenisDo not assume (if I hold the door for you),that I am making a statementabout your inabilitiesto open the door for yourself.If you hold it for me,I'll say 'thankyou'.Do not assume (if I pay for the meal),that I am underestimatingyour earning capacityas a woman.If you invite me out for a meal,you're paying.Do not assume (if I defend your rights),that I am belittlingthe attempts that you have madeto defend your rights yourself.If you defend my rights,I'll consider you human.
/ boy // boy come into world / baby boy / blue boy / boy with shadow /boy son / brother boy / boy with god in eyes / boy in story / boy in this story / this story / this boy /this boy grows up / boy in china shop life / boy is bull / stubborn boy / boy with thick skin / bad boy / boy is bad / boy in bad world/ boy in men's suits / boy in man suit / boy with no face / boy wears another/ boy wears skin too tight / broken boy / boy of glass/ boy in own head / boy in sad body/ boy oh boy / oh boy / oh boy with a mouth / boy with big mouth /loud boy / boy of spit & gas / boy of no words /boy of smoke / boy looking back in broken mirror /boy climb into bottle & can't get out / boy lose himself in sea of mouths /boy lose himself in stranger's legs / boy been lost since birth/ found this out along the way/ boy with wandered eyes / boy with too little time / you boy /all out in cold / boy now in dead winter / here boy / come in /boy makes home inside / boy with crown or noo
Brown Eyes Compliments, and AnalogiesBecause I'm sick of people saying there aren't any.Your brown eyes are like the deep intoxication of campaign wine, bubbling with hazing richness and expensive taste.Your brown eyes are like the color of mahogany wood- comforting and home-steady toughness that lets me know you will be the beams of supporting me.Your eyes remind me of Dove chocolate, smooth, creamy, delectable, and melting.The color of brown eyes remind me of mountain terrain and nature, something subtle, but beautiful in every form and season.Brown eyes make me think of Devil's cake, taunting and tempting, curtained by black lashes, the symbol of rich seduction.When brown eyes delve in love, they become the color of a leather book, promising a story of loyalty, long-life, and devotion.Your brown eyes remind me of mysterious secrets, dark to cover the pain of ignorance, opaque to cover to want of another.Brown eyes are like the stable ground, steadier and prepared to embrace you when you fall, into a nurturing a
Rhyming in PoemsWhy do you all want to rhymeall the time?You don't need to do it,that's perfectly fine.You think it's so coolAnd it leaves poems gleaming,But it desecrates flowAnd can ruin the meaning.It's so bad to rhythm,It's like a bad dayYou wonder why you're notSleeping it away.You think it's the rootOf your writing's salvation,But we all will hate you,All parts of the nation.You think it sounds niceBut you don't even knowHow ruined the sound isHow badly it 'goes'.So the irony's over,Your poems can mend,I'll stop myself here,Before you meetYour end.
Insanity needs companyand now I’m stuck here,pondering,how the walls becamea veiny sight-(could the cause be me calling outyour namein the middle of the night?)and alone I stand here,wondering,how my feet gotnailed upon this floor-(do you hold my ankleslike an anchordoes the shore?)and I know it’s been thirteen yearssince you were here at all,according to the hash marksdrawn in chalkupon the wall,but I can’tlet goof our memories,that hauntme everydayso for now,I’ll let the doc declare: Insanity needs company.
without a goodbyethis is the last time.just empty space and time passingbetween us.I am at the other end of the room,and you have opened all the windowsand doors to let yourself out.