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the reasons I keep going back to this pen, paper, typewriter. :heart:



your-methamphetamine writes poetry that punches the reader in the gut. It is heart-wrenchingly real, and it never fails to move me. It is evocative and poignant, getting the truth of the matter in both astounding and unsurprising, both straight-forward and back-alley entrances: she utilizes all of these approaches and leaves the reader gasping, breathless for more. Check out her gallery!!
-- travelgirlxx

your-methamphetamine creates a new world with each piece the pens. It's as if she opened a door into her mind and is letting you view her intimate thoughts. The images in each of her writings are gorgeous beyond measure, letting the reader visualize perfectly what she is trying to convey, and imagine exactly what feelings she had when she was writing the piece.
-- DrippingWords

your-methamphetamine writes with amazing intrigue. Her pieces are at once heartwrenchingly revealing and mysterious – they beg to be read and reread until the lovely haze is cleared leaving the characters exposed and related to. The words fit together as if they could not be arranged any other way which lends a natural cadence to them.
-- 0hgravity



your-methamphetamine's Profile Picture
sometimes girl.
Artist | Student | Literature

artwork above by The--Strategist

eighteen | nomad | wanderlust-bitten | yugen-driven | effervescent | loved | forgetful | words and music ventilated | still getting used to these- legs, arms, fingers | mastering the art of being left behind | human

I fancy myself a youth slam poet, guilty of falling in love with the unfamiliar. I have been published over at The Missing Slate, Modern Day Fairy Tales and cahoodaloodaling. my first spoken word album, the articulation of my vertebrae is now available for download on my bandcamp! go get your copy!



32 deviations
/a. dictitious/
am well-woven.

am a spell
that does not release
and never tells.

these constructions
i allow,
and better
to speak in hearttones
and hymnbeats
on rugged pavements.

have built

this body has
forgotten its infinite
beatings, denied
itself the luxury
of acceptance

this body has
remembered its lovers'
last names, phone numbers,
birthmarks and kindness

the only cruelty this vessel knows
is from its middles

have riddled 
myself into

these hands
are imbued
with patient dynamism
and ichor
that the goddesses

they have moved
mountain ranges
and hoisted dark seas
then returned them

such instruments deserve more
than my doubts

have clouded
the veins tenacious

i allowed these
to hold me.

i have yet to feel
like less
than a Dali

my little ashes
are coming close

the Ganges
lost its 
to me; i carry
i house 
till it is perfected


am gold
and nothing less.
ways we constellate
thinking out loud and generally being amazing with gliitchlord 

hope this song is golden

Journal Entry: Mon Nov 17, 2014, 3:05 AM

notice the fluidity of my unbackspaced fingers -
no that’s a lie I need it to be perfect you are perfect and I am
trying so fucking hard to be - you are

the scent of winter mornings, musk 
of intimacy, smooth-scratchy whispers 
of broken French and

mine. I never need to erase the only truth as unworthy of denial
as the uncertainty of grass behind the fence 
we’ll never see past.

are mine and your body
utters it, shapes its lucidity
around it. when you see this fluidity
in my clumsy, flimsiness
do you smile?

do you pride yourself a puppeteer 
or do you let gravity fall victim
to your contentment’s excuses? 
read this aloud, I have yet

to teach you how to tongue meaning out of my words
till they submit to your vocal intent. 
your arms have learned
intimacy in my accents all over again;
I am a woman of so many words
I will drag you with my uncertainty 
till you take it from my unkind sights, 
nurse it back to insatiable 
thirst and burn our throats enough
to show novice windows how it’s done

show me how it is done.

walk fear to the cul-de-sac and make it stay
so it never comes back and make it remember 
that these embers cry for firewood when all we’ve done
is chop trees when we forgot

you are mine and there is no forgetting

remember that seeing you feels like
watching a drunkerd spill his thoughts into a microphone;
I can’t stop snapping my fingers around you
where were you standing when the ground
swept from beneath these piscean feet?

yes I still believe in stars and yes
I will ask you to name constellations and yes 
I am taut like locks in hairpins and prim 
the way thoughts are conditioned 
but it’s only because I’m missing the ease I had

to hate me. when you call me beautiful I want 
to keep my eyes open, I want to watch
warmth tickle your pomacious cheeks as you
digress and insist

I will not resist this

I am calculated to chaos, a storm 
in its humble wake and you have made 
peace with my rumbling quakes.

your hairpins
[theme gl3]

i only ever write when i'm half asleep now. 


Add a Comment:
wildfirepen Featured By Owner 3 hours ago  Hobbyist Writer
thank you for the fave~
cemalsamli Featured By Owner Oct 28, 2014   Photographer
thanks a lot =)
Deku-Gamer-DA Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Hello there.  I love your poetry so very much.  You are quite talented :D
(1 Reply)
MyHeadWonders Featured By Owner Oct 1, 2014  Hobbyist Interface Designer
Hey thanx for the FAVE, really means alot!!
Minion-Blah=P (Razz)  GiveGetCenter-party  
co0kiem0nstr Featured By Owner Sep 29, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
You're back! I was just thinking about you the other day dear
(1 Reply)
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