[x]

dust-centred bones she can't
say she holds
the world on her
coathanger
shoulders,
but the
weight
of
everyday
drags her down
like nothing else:
until she thinks
maybe she
might
be
slicing
open sharp
hip bones until
they soak the
air with rust and
salt and
dirty desire
and
the mirror
steams to
hide away

all poets are used to deceitare you still savoring
the taste of deceit
off the edge
of your limerick tongue?
you know what i mean
you "poet of unusual sorts,"
with your
chaotic green eyes
and skin of pale misfortune
leaving scents of sweet seas when oceans
begin to spite you.

yes, your silent panthers,
loyal only to the sound of sonnets
of broken piano chords
and keys and torn six-strings.
those slithe things will
prove to you
once,
that betrayal is just eight letters
of pleasure undercover.

it's these little beauties that
will make you see;
every liar was an artist
and every poet was a whore,
just till the point
they owned you no more.

ever

lukewarmshe had the kind of voice
that seemed to be stuck
in the hour of four o'clock
in the morning - soft
and tired and luring,
mumbling her way through
subways and tunnel lights
all pale yellow with noise.

there was tea and long baths
and longer absences,
hiccups of breath
the best
she could do.
long springs and
longer falls,
one equinox to the next
and still the bad
was never that bad
and the good
was never that
good,
and she continues to hum
the birds continue to sing
the apples continue to
grow and
sour and
fall,

and bury themselves
again.

ApoplepsyI dream rat poison tea
[soothe my sick throat],
and the slip-slip-whack of falling body
thwarted by the thrust of gravity.

Sick child, invalid, red-carded out of life
apologetically excused out of existence,
left to rot in bedroom bunker.

Escorted to the end by memories.
Tremble-sick and haunted.
Phantom pain, poltergeist muscles.
Tremble-sick and dead.

Cookerymy blender does not understand
smoothies
"Accept My Gift of Pineapple
Thou Foul Beast!"
this is a blood sacrifice
and she is sadly unreceptive

I begin the main course
I have cupboards full of words
See-Jane-Runs
quick brown foxes
I have half a mind (no, three-fourths of a mind)
to sauté them
into
the golden eggs
more difficult to crack
than I had thought they would be
(forge? My stove doesn't get
hot enough,
I think)

I will spice the adjectives with
madness
I will verb these nouns
throw in a voodoo doll or
tulips! Two! Lips!
Crack open a maraca
and sell you some rhythm

Oh you will love this
you will devour th

pigeonhello, pigeon,
he says with a smile
like somehow, he already knows
she's been sad for a while.

and she just looks at him,
with her brokenhearted bambi eyes
and she hopes that he understands
because nobody understands,
not really.

pigeon, he says,
I know.
and he does.

he knows that deep in her heart,
she just isn't happy.
not today, not yesterday,
and maybe not even tomorrow.

he knows that she wants to be happy,
wants to know what it's like
to be filled with sunshine

(and he thinks maybe that's why
she loves sunflowers so very much.
because she thinks they exude sunlight,
and maybe, just maybe,
if she were bright yellow

The First Thunder of JuneI could tell from the way
the truck barreled down the road,
how its motor revved and caught on the air,
that a storm was coming.

The dog shook,
his twelve-year hips aching with the effort
of tucking his tail between his legs
in the hope that such displays of submission
would appease the weather.
They did not.

The sky turned feral and spat on the house.
While my old-hound panted
with his panic-wide eyes,
mine filled with awe and lightning.

overflowi tried to show you
all the broken bones
in the cupboard

all the cobwebs
underneath the staircase

all the schisms
and chasms
and chinks in my
a(r)mour

but
your finger touched my lips
in a curious sort of way
and you said
shh, darling,
don't say a word

none of that matters
anymore

so i tried
to shut away the
ghosts
but now they're out
and about
and coming for me

and i can't escape them
with my heart so chipped
and faded.

Totems and Godhoodi. As a child, confronting giants.

I take the pine tree as my totem,
learn to love the nakedness of its nether-regions
and its northerly fibers stretched and waiting
for the weft to its warp.

Girlhood is still a part of me as the
learning what I am. In the end,
I haven't climbed a tree in a long time;
I am small, and scared, and ringed round with walls,
and I beg the moon to teach me
to use my pine trees as a ladder.

ii. In the way only young love can.

You, sir—
you are pine chips, and I carry you
like a fetish in my mind.

You are the first vampiric sweetness
to suck the breath from my body:
unknowing, the feeling of ye

astronomerswhen we're together
dusk is containable; the moon in my palms
and the stars on your ceiling.

we lull the city to sleep
with our theories of life; my tongue curling
into speech.

do you remember,
when Jupiter was a silver wick, lighting its countless moons?

that night,
you balanced a cigarette off your lips,
and I watched the vermillion flame burn life
as a newborn sun;

stars forming,
planets moulding and constellations snaked
above our eyes.

i imagined
what it would be like to be curled
inside the embers – creator and destroyer
of worlds,
so close to your lips.

10.04i.
She sits all alone by the sea
before the empty stretch;
whispered winds wandering through,
without any hope
of a realisation.

ii.
The hush of skin on skin,
such submission in her posture
to shimmy past boulders and pebbles alike
into the vast emptiness --
what a wonderful death it is. To drown.

iii.
Wooden clunk of boats
rocking against the gentle, rippling tides;
brightly painted sides
and glowing edges
and well-ripened lichen and a lining of barnacles
which soothes the onrushing memories.

iv.
Gravel-like hiss of sand on the
sloping route up wooden stairs,
creaky, crumbling boathouse;
faded outlook under grey-blue c

underthis delirium is like
a kiss: momentary,
placid,
and perhaps insidious.

dreams stretch their watery
fingers, listless
and profound, over these
reflections—

they twine in my hair,
thread between my fingers
(like flowers, or maybe hope),
and drench my skirts
with lost longing.

look, pre-Raphaelites, Elizabethans,
Victorian women of all ages:
this is what comes
of daring to desire.

stars burst before my eyes,
flowers sprout
in my lungs,
the last ray of light has gone
and my world is black
and blue.

I am gorged and oversoaked
with sleep.

another fix, pleasethat feeling of relief
in darkened days –

remembering once
with hollow eyes and broken gazes,
floods my skin like taut stares,
uncomfortable –
the key snapping blurry worlds
into focus.

I dissolve, scars upon scars,
building tales of months
forgotten and
pain bleeding outside borders –
only blissful addiction.

[ breathing monitored,
as watched as I am – ]
confusion, hazy like counting
backwards

for that feeling in freedom,
for waiting.

perfection comes in blood
and agony, for searching
out hungry addiction.

watch –

addiction, hungry,
out searching for agony
and blood.

in comes perfection,
w

Psalmi. earth

your kingdom come

easement grass
swaying tall like wheat

the galloping horse
who eyed my stick with fear
and mistook my approach for vengeance

earthworms
dawn into the open by rain

moles
caught by the spikes
of traps that father placed
where the earth was soft

the thundering lump
of the pine tree
being cut piece from piece,
it's limbs falling,
the workers squinting against the sun,
and I, woken by the noise,
sitting dazed on my bed

ii. sea

In the strawberries
growing flush and firm
on Californian fields.
In the small girl
groping among berry bushes
as it is in her father
keeping a watchful eye.
In the bloo

Lion HeartIt is building up deep within her fragile body like a heaving monsoon forming over the dry, cracked, heavy heat of an African savannah; an unforgiving and all-consuming storm desperately willing to drown out its less than fleeting welcome. Flickering with ceaseless coils of skin-searing energy like a grey-faced fugitive's adrenaline stricken heartbeat, it is not a bringer of life, but a threat to it—and even the most reckless are hardwired to take flight in the face of such a colossal and uncompromising foe.

Beyond these white-washed walls, the world would have her believe that she is brave, a lioness, an exception confronted

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 1.9 KB more ▶

More from *your-methamphetamine

bokehhey sweet sour
little bokeh lights
i've been going blind
watching you tonight
so slow down
my head feels numb
against the petty
woes of the sun

i have watched you shimmer,
timid and shy
and heard you roar
against a violent sky
no stains of war
just pretty bokeh lights
out of focus
and out of sight

hey hot cold
little bokeh lights
i've been calling you
every night
auroras grew bland
colors lost muse
now i only find
sadness profuse

i have called moons
his name and told
all my sorrows
to a lightning bolt
and though they say
i have not been grudged
i still betrayed
grew cold and judged

all hands that straightened

the clockwork liari. we dusted dreams off people like the first snowflakes of the season. you'd take one and rest it on the center of your tongue because you hated the taste of ice cream and wanted to reset what cold tasted like to you.
you taught me that the cold could be bitter.
and so could people's dreams.
you drank out of out-of-order wells because you believed they still worked and that the government was keeping it all to itself.
i never realized how insane you made me before i wrote this all down.

ii. i wished on the sun because i ran out of shooting stars.
and just to spite me, you began wishing on raindrops because you believed that they were so many, one of them was bound to remember you.
but we both ended up laughing hysterically with stabbed protruding knives jutting out of us on a bloodstained floor, didn't we?

iii. i talked to clockwork towers and told them to lie because if they stopped for just a while, all the time in the world would s

today is only a five-letter-wordi refuse to be afraid to breathe anymore.

i'll take your scent in and never breathe it out, but everyone is so gullible; they think i dream when i'm really just thinking of ways to make you real. they believe me when i say that God's sense of humor was always twisted and dark.
because they're people; they'll believe anything.

i prattle on and on with words that don't need to be said, that hardly ever make sense.
but you read on. because you know somewhere between the lines i've hidden your name for the seraphs to see.

it won't take much to stop draining me.
the minute you stop, so will i. peace misses you too. give back my breaths and i

the wrong flats to a melodyit was because we were perfect.

no, honey. don't scoff already.
we were perfect together; kind of like dismantled, deranged chords that sound terrible if put in a melody separately, but we made a song of our own, based on sharps and flats people were too afraid to put together in one.

it was because we had it all.

from Wonderland to a land of candy to getting high and imagining it all, we had everything. the world was falling apart around us, crumbling to its knees but we had our bikes and our gold summons of theft and misfortune to remind us of the, "everything," that has now turned to nothing that we had.

it was because nothing was wro

three hundred and eighty four days todayi knew Noah back when my handwriting was still legible, my thoughts were regularly scribbled in a little brown notebook i clutched to my chest, and my mind imagined things instead of my hallucinations imagining my mind.

three thousand four hundred and sixty eight days today.
no... no. it hasn't been that long. but are you sure? it seems longer.
i can still feel the jagged edges of the wound in my skull when he stole my mind and put it in a warm-colored basket he stitched of autumn leaves and golden sunsets.

i knew Noah back when my hair was dyed black and brown, i broke down for days because of things that happened in school, my heart sa

View Gallery

Featured in Groups:

#TalentedWritersGuild
Talented writers, quality lit!

Details

Submitted: August 13, 2012
File Size: 1.9 KB

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 59
Favourites: 87 [who?]
Views: 1,159 (1 today)
Downloads: 8 (0 today)

[x]

blue and gold are not just colors

by *your-methamphetamine, Aug 13, 2012, 11:12:12 PM
Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

_{she had been blue-sighted
since
dawn cracked her forehead.
it was the dress she wore on his funeral
the color of her school flag
the shine in her father's eyes;
she waited in blue and gold.

no, she refused to set a bar
because
life didn't just come to her.
she earned her place
in her mother's womb
when each blood vessel questioned her
each nerve ending, if she could live
and each antibody, if she was worth it.

see, she doesn't need new dresses.
she has a memory
for each of hers in her locked closet.
she may not wear all of them
(and most she cringes at the sight of)
but her heart
jumps enough
every time bits of her old life
show unconnected dots
she forces back together.

yes, she waited in blue and gold.
but not for you
when
you threw a smile at her face
that was never hers to take
but you love your girls vulnerable
and you love your numbers copious.

there's a great chance she
hates those colors now
because everyone who waits outside her window
fails to notice there's no movement
no sign
no one.
no one noticed she was gone till
the crack-induced pockets of hormones
came fucking at her door.

the colors
she was born in,
she died in.
the questions
she was born with,
she died with.
the people, however,
the ones she was born with
kept living on.
even you.

no one's curious anymore.
blue and gold are unsaturated colors.
everyone moved on.

and you were no exception.}

blue and gold are not just colorsby *your-methamphetamine

Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

_{for k.
the best friend who killed herself and i will never know if she's real.

#Word-Smiths's colors contest entry.
enjoy.}

love 1 1

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

sad 1 1

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

=SilverInkblot Dec 28, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Hi there! Just a note to let you know I've featured this piece in my 2012 showcase of literature: [link]

*your-methamphetamine Dec 28, 2012 Student Writer

thank you so much

=SilverInkblot Dec 28, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

You're welcome

=Sammur-amat Oct 23, 2012 General Artist

You do know how much I adore you and your penchant for leaving me at a loss for words at the beauty of yours, right?

Congratulations on the well-desrved DLD, Cassielove

*your-methamphetamine Oct 24, 2012 Student Writer

_{you. you are wonderful.
don't argue.

thankyousosomuchh<3}

=Sammur-amat Oct 24, 2012 General Artist

Then don't argue when I say you are, too and more<3

=DailyLitDeviations Oct 22, 2012

Your wonderful literary work has been chosen to be featured by DailyLitDeviations in a news article that can be found here [link]
Be sure to check out the other artists featured and show your support by

ing the News Article.

*your-methamphetamine Oct 23, 2012 Student Writer

_{thank you so so much!}

~Sigma-Echo-Seven Oct 8, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

The opening stanza is marvelous, and the rest of the poem carries on effortlessly in the same manner. Well done.

*your-methamphetamine Oct 9, 2012 Student Writer

_{thank you.}

More from *your-methamphetamine

Featured in Groups:

Details

Statistics

blue and gold are not just colors

blue and gold are not just colorsby *your-methamphetamine

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style