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Poets Always Lieambrosial fabrications are
easier to swallow down when
incandescence is a blessing bestowed
only upon those with silky tongues.

deceptions are beautiful
in the right words

because they are salvation, like a
rapture, they save the sickly,
self-indulgent souls from those
tragedies they used to write on the insides
of childhood notebooks about who
they could never be [themselves]

they rescue them from tremulous
corners and closets, hideaways
where they've grown too akin to
the demons they nurse; and drag
them into a land beautiful enough
to wear light as a second skin

(where lies are never discussed
but always shared)

cl
Indefinite Tidesshe speaks in vinegar riddles
and bides her time in shipwrecked
smiles- she's
ticking off days for the boy
with stormy eyes who promised
he'd be back in a season or
two.  he, who was

crafted from the leftover bits of the moon
and the meandering sky with runaway
stars lurking deep beneath his ribcage,
waiting to fall whenever he spoke
like a saint, whose divine sacraments
parted land and birthed lives; like a
sorcerer whose words launched a
thousand sunken ships but

now, she pops pills like reminders,
stabilizers that last 4-6 hours
depending on her ability to forget

and she's lost in herself
again, among faltering brainwa
Nostalgiashe fell in love with the sound of
dying storms, and lost herself in
the blind spots accompanying her
every furtive glance

her downturned spine labeled her:
pitiful,
and her relentless divulging to
overcast skies defined her as
needy; but still she offered the
seeds of her pomegranate heart
to anyone willing to settle down
inside the breeze

and she was abandoned, long ago,
(once upon a time, no one cried)
by wolves with insipid fangs
and human eyes (her glittery irises
never quite belonged)
they discarded her when she asked if
self-delusions were a state of mind

and
she is poorly veiled, so see-through under
our cracke
Sleeping Souls Never Liethey buried you
with stars in your palms, because
they thought it was a crime
you'd never made a wish in your life

the dirt and darkness
was enough to extinguish
their dying lights

(it's okay, your silent skin
said, softly, I always wanted
the sky to bring me to sleep)

the priest begged, believing you
might rise from the hole
you'd dug for yourself

he wanted to let you know
there was something bigger than all of us,
someplace farther than 6 feet under

(I'm alright, your stony eyes
swore, sometimes falling
feels enough like flying)

their voices all filled with tears
even though you said you weren't worth
their worries, the
defeatheredand this is where we bury our hearts,
between self-defeating personality disorders
and burnt bridges and midnight ramblings
we promise ourselves aren’t true;
embedding our memories in forsaken homes
like it is a conscious decision to shed
our wings (reptiles don’t fly)

and maybe I am the monster of every
myth: wide-eyed and jagged toothed and
looking to regain a piece of myself the
world borrowed, many moons ago

as I falter and stumble over my own unaware
feet, wreaking havoc, reeking of self-acquittal--

all I ever wanted to do was belong.

dreams are flaws much like the hearts we
flaunt on our sleeves, and I seem to
have len
Spotlessone day you'll fly a little too close to the sun
and you'll remember the boy who told you
gas station trinkets were worth more than
the heart you wore on your sleeve.

disillusionment will take you home, and
it will not leave your bed in the morning.
(you will remember he called you loose, too.)

you are the one who believes in smoke
smiles and candid cadavers. no ones'
nose grows, so everyone must be
undeniably true (except

you lie to yourself, too)

a few lifetimes ago you fell in love
with your own reflection, but as you
stripped away layers of common mis-
conceptions, you realized you are not

virtuous and radiant and hung o
Keepers of My Hearti.
you are in love with being in love
like you're caught on the train tracks,
tied down by want, waiting for that
insistent collision to
steal you away into the land
of concussions and self-medication
and hearts that barely heal

ii.
and stories confessing the notches
in your bedpost, the lines in
your smile. the sour note in your
liberally dissonant melody.

iii.
you did not want tangibility

cotton trees cascading and butterfly
innards, serenading clouds and
fluorescent lips
(until the sky came crashing down
and you reoriented the earth)

iv.
you did not want me

v.
I am solid and as notable as
the ghosts sleeping in y
admittance is defeatthey called you beautiful

with porcelain eyes about to crack
and cigarette skin crumbling
away, a knotted spine and
jagged smile:

you were never gracious.

you're slipping underneath, this
virulent smog masks a paper sky that
never allowed a dream and

you're afraid because it's soaking in
your pores again, unattainable and unoriginal;
the meaning of life never meant enough-

you were never hopeful.

there's a getaway map on the underside
of your pillow, and a lifetime of secrets
on the underside of your bones

you're a walking travesty:
your chest ticks, dull
your wrist beats, dying
time is keeping you but

you were never pa
Sorry Then Safei
we like to play with fire.
as it eats away at our
insipid nature, and licks the
desolate consistency of our bones,
our inner cold is warmed.

you say that it reminds you
of my fevered eyes.

ii.
we make scarecrows into humans
into saviors, then tear them down again
for not cleansing out our wounds.
we forget they were only born
to keep the birds from
devouring us further.

and they watch, feebly, as we
fall face-first into our fate

iii.
you looked me dead in the eye
"we are all walking ghosts
waiting to die so we can live"

and your whitened hands became
a symbol of achievement

iv
we write our epitaphs the day we're c
Idylliche always spoke of the romantic stance in a smoker
whose every gasp was like a suicidal swansong, he
wrapped himself up so tightly in unwarranted wishing, when
they stripped him free, he then stumbled into the sunlight
and burnt [out]

no one laced his pillows with lavender and moonbeams
and all the other things that call dreams out from
hiding; but he still prayed upside-down overdone
every evening for a falling star to find its way
back home.

instead, they surrounded him with [a grain of]
salt circles like curses to draw out the weaknesses
temptation had embedded in him, because
nothing beautiful was ever built atop a rotten
Arise and Breathelittle siren girl, held up by fishhooks
and lines - you'll only be free when
they cut you loose.

still, they tell you: you will not fall
victim to swelling tides, you
will float. (you are a dead weight.)

you are something incomplete
like the forgotten house on the
end of the row, eating itself,
dimming day by day:
paint chips and chapped lips
have nothing left to say.

there are monsters nursing
deep beneath your flesh, with
threadbare spines and trembling
hands, they are afraid of their own
shadows. (you are only weak when
your eyes are open)

a new year waits upon your doorstep,
promising to take all that was ever [you]
In Piecesrum-lust lips make gentle friends,
words slurred in hands blurred,
burning in between the lines to find
some
drunken concoction of wilted laughs
and heavy sighs, scented sultry
with desperation.

you are that
rasping in my throat when my voice
deteriorates and I am left breathless
and hopeless and raw, my
muscles ache in memory of the
motions to forget-
we do not let go.

and cold beds call, stability,
metal frames and sunken heads –
rest now, rest with
a prayer on your lips you don't
care to share, a dream in
your mind you'll never get back;
rest and the earth will lend you peace
and

you will stop. the rivers will cle
Skeletal Foundationsit's the city that makes you,
she says when her industrialized eyes
start to flicker. her heart rushes
like a subway falling late and
the patterns in her skin remind you of
striated architecture (reminds you of how
everything's human in its own way)

we're precarious concrete skeletons
crafted by men praying we won't fall,
and we yearn- you know- we ache
for a sense of vitality and being to
enter us and make us more than a
pale ghost of an engineer's dreams and

maybe we have our own shadowy corners,
too.

commotion exists betwixt her ears and
she's a destination, a place to rest and
catch your breath but not to settle
down b
Amnesiacsmaybe you forgot how to
wake up without screaming.

she smiles like a broken dawn
and the meek will inherit the
earth, if they don't drown,
first. she's barely breathing;
trying to grow gills because
it's only in the state of dying
that we adapt.

and you won't see the colors
pouring out of her chest, you
won't hear the ebbing swansong
she hums so quietly.

you didn't come to be reminded.

you inject a little further, a little
closer to the heart.      numb.

(she died the day she
was given a name)

she made you promise never
to be a number, or a majority;
she made your heart beat in a way
that made you think you were alive,
crystal catastrophies bottled upv
her shaky hands couldn't hold a pen
or a promise
"my fingers have broken
trying to rewrite clichés-
believe me when I say, I'm special"
hollow laughs glossed over her
tempered smile

as she waited for the day
when that might actually mean
something

i
there was an eve long before dawn
ever tainted the starry night sky and
inflicted vision on those who preferred
to stay in the dark, where a girl
crooned quietly to herself
"what if when we meet,
I've run out of I love you's?"

this was before the sun whispered in her ears
that they'd never mattered, anyway

iv
hopelessness descends
on wearied souls
who couldn't lear
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More from *intricately-ordinary

Skeletal Foundationsit's the city that makes you,
she says when her industrialized eyes
start to flicker. her heart rushes
like a subway falling late and
the patterns in her skin remind you of
striated architecture (reminds you of how
everything's human in its own way)

we're precarious concrete skeletons
crafted by men praying we won't fall,
and we yearn- you know- we ache
for a sense of vitality and being to
enter us and make us more than a
pale ghost of an engineer's dreams and

maybe we have our own shadowy corners,
too.

commotion exists betwixt her ears and
she's a destination, a place to rest and
catch your breath but not to settle
down b
reservethe walls gasp as
recognition-stained hallucinations
take the covers and defile
the windows with their
presence. the doors are stripped
free, because they never felt open.
tonight, i am the wilted flower's
last cry.

(your name burns my skin) we are only
the weakest we have ever been and
i am an ugly duckling of paper
and poignant prayers.

i'm tied to a summer's day
almost real enough to lose myself in, of
white minds and placid trees, swaying
as though leaves would never fall;
this was months before i changed and
before my skin flaked and i was left
a metallic form of undone want-
before you cringed from the hiss
o
Keepers of My Hearti.
you are in love with being in love
like you're caught on the train tracks,
tied down by want, waiting for that
insistent collision to
steal you away into the land
of concussions and self-medication
and hearts that barely heal

ii.
and stories confessing the notches
in your bedpost, the lines in
your smile. the sour note in your
liberally dissonant melody.

iii.
you did not want tangibility

cotton trees cascading and butterfly
innards, serenading clouds and
fluorescent lips
(until the sky came crashing down
and you reoriented the earth)

iv.
you did not want me

v.
I am solid and as notable as
the ghosts sleeping in y
DFC Day 9: Culminationsjaundiced hands will not
resuscitate. steadfast nights
have no home (but timely graves)

her eyes dimmed rosy.
discontinued pallid echoes,
bone cages "we're never free"
Spotlessone day you'll fly a little too close to the sun
and you'll remember the boy who told you
gas station trinkets were worth more than
the heart you wore on your sleeve.

disillusionment will take you home, and
it will not leave your bed in the morning.
(you will remember he called you loose, too.)

you are the one who believes in smoke
smiles and candid cadavers. no ones'
nose grows, so everyone must be
undeniably true (except

you lie to yourself, too)

a few lifetimes ago you fell in love
with your own reflection, but as you
stripped away layers of common mis-
conceptions, you realized you are not

virtuous and radiant and hung o
Idylliche always spoke of the romantic stance in a smoker
whose every gasp was like a suicidal swansong, he
wrapped himself up so tightly in unwarranted wishing, when
they stripped him free, he then stumbled into the sunlight
and burnt [out]

no one laced his pillows with lavender and moonbeams
and all the other things that call dreams out from
hiding; but he still prayed upside-down overdone
every evening for a falling star to find its way
back home.

instead, they surrounded him with [a grain of]
salt circles like curses to draw out the weaknesses
temptation had embedded in him, because
nothing beautiful was ever built atop a rotten

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September 1, 2012
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[x]

Frozen Obligations

:iconintricately-ordinary:

your hand on the door, you whisper
with breath reeking of buyer's remorse
"it's better this way,
you need a guy who won't make you cry—
you need a guy who wants to stay"
and you believe it

goosebumps spread on your arms
from the chill of frozen eyes
and words can't make it better, but—
"it never would have worked, anyway
you need more than I could ever give.
you deserve better than me."

and you don't acknowledge your broken logic.
(because once, you would've given the world.
but pouty lips and honeyed words aren't
as sweet as you remembered.)
and maybe you've convinced yourself
that if you're so eager to leave,
it's truly for the best

except
you once fulfilled all those needs.
when times get tough
it's not enough
that fragile hearts are made of glass—
because maybe you've convinced yourself
you deserve better.

"I really did care about you"
you liked the way your heart fluttered,
but you know it's nothing
special. that patterned excitement
in your chest, that once made you smile
and swear you'd found the one
is gone.
and, you want to go with it.

the air is chilly;
you pretend you don't know why,
and words begin to fall from the mouth previously
sealed shut, because it had been deprived of energy
and a reason.
but now-
there's a question.

"didn't I used to mean something
to you?
when did that change?"

you don't know an answer
but you know you're afraid of the fingers
clenched white, and the expectant eyes that
expect a little too much from you

like things you can't give, because
you lied about why you really cared.
the heart you never gave doesn't feel the same.

the silence is heavy,
you go,
even though you were never really there.
it's warm, outside;
you pretend you don't know why,
and you let yourself forget
about when you actually felt something.

(because, maybe,
you never really did)
:iconintricately-ordinary:
I have the irrational fear everyone will leave me. I say irrational, because I know it's dumb (the same way my fears of sneezes and people poking my stomach are irrational.) But, I still worry.
Because there's always going to be buyer's remorse. And sometimes, I worry people won't think I'm worth the price.

I wrote this in second person, which is a first for me.
Tell me what you think.
Add a Comment:
 
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:iconwanderlings:
Critique by ~Wanderlings Sep 1, 2012, 1:06:22 PM
This piece is written brilliantly!

In the first stanza, your use of parenthesis makes the details encloused in them seem like an afterthough to the speaker. I think this is really effective because the speaker is focusing on the person leaving, and thus they would notice other details only minutely (though also seeming significant too).

I like your use of dialouge in the poem as well. This technique also adds to the piece and gives it a really realistic quality, it's actually happening, and it's not just a story. The dialouge really helped me to connect to the poem.

The lack of capitalisation except for "I" was also really awesome. It added to the flow of the poem and the sense that it was really happening, connecting to the reader. It also put emphasis on the "I" and how the speaker feels/felt.

Your choice of words for the poem are excellent. Everything fits and flows. I love "the silence is heavy" and "(beacause, maybe,/you never really did)" :love: Both are lovely phrases and the latter closes the poem powerfully.

Overall the whole piece is brilliant, (ha, I'm repeating myself...) and I love it! I truely can't find anything you'd need to improve on. Sorry...? :)

A sidenote, or P.S. : There are always going to be stupid people who leave because they feel slighted or upset. I know someone who is like that and it's sad because they miss out on great friendships. I want you to know that you're worth it. I know people say sorta cliche stuff like that a lot, but I say it because it's true. You're part of a whole community of people who all contribute and review and help each other. Even if one peson leaves you, there are many more who are willing to help you back up. :glomp:

:blushes: I hope my mini-speech helps. :hug:
What do you think?
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:iconbuddhakat9:
=buddhakat9 Sep 11, 2012
this did build very nicely to a punch at the end, even if we might have expected it (the punch)... seems we always get a lot of advice when we post things like this (I only have a couple written pieces so far, so it doesn't show in anything I've loaded here). I like parentheses too!!!

I think we all know some things intellectually, but living them emotionally is a whole different can o' worms!!

really like your use of second person - don't see that very often, it has a unique flavor to it...

:)
Reply
:iconintricately-ordinary:
*intricately-ordinary Sep 11, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Advice is lovely. I'm a little silly, sometimes I need some... ^^; and second person is really difficult to write in, as I found out D:

Thank you very much for your comment :tighthug:
Reply
:iconbuddhakat9:
=buddhakat9 Sep 12, 2012
:iconsmile--plz:
Reply
:iconad-kins:
~Ad-Kins Sep 9, 2012
Again, amazingly written. You're going to get sick of me saying that XD

Can't say I relate to this poem though, unlike I have your other ones thus far. Which kinda sucks since this is written in a reader insert form. I dated my ex for almost four years until he hit me. I kicked him out the door (literally) and never saw his sorry ass again. I'm happily married now. Haven't spoken to my father in quite a while either, but I love fishing with my mom's boyfriend. People who cause you problems just aren't worth your time. There's somebody else out there that will happily take their place.

Also, here's a shirt for you!
[link]
Reply
:iconintricately-ordinary:
*intricately-ordinary Sep 9, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Oh my goodness. I admire your strength.
I am a very weak willed person.
In this, I meant more to emphasize the feeling of loss and abandonment in the other character. I always worry people will think I'm not worth the bother I am and just up and leave some day. That's the place this piece came from: I fear this will happen if I get close to anyone.

thank you so much for the comment :heart: I cannot tell you how much your kind words mean to me.
Reply
:iconad-kins:
~Ad-Kins Sep 9, 2012
There will always be someone. There's 7 billion people on this planet.

Plus, there's always dogs XD
Reply
:iconnotensmsk:
~NotenSMSK Sep 6, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
The fear you have is not irrational... actually the concept of irrationallity like sanity is a relative one. Skipping that, this work was unique even among your works. The second person makes it a different thing to read and rther mystical and enjoyable. Yet again I was unabl to grasp the complete picture and I do know that if I were to ponder a bit more, I will surely get it but it seemed to slip out of my grasp. I did get the feel and over all vibe of it; that made it good. The basic meaning also made it through and the title matches the poem beautifully.
Reply
:iconintricately-ordinary:
*intricately-ordinary Sep 6, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
It's about the elaborate fear I have. I worry someone will care about me, then if things get too tough, they will leave. And, worse yet, they will realize it meant nothing all along, feeling no remorse.

It was definitely a new thing for me, trying second person. I think it worked, but it was difficult to write.

Thank you so much for the comment :tighthug:
Reply
:iconnotensmsk:
~NotenSMSK Sep 6, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Oh no, I did get the fear perfectly and it was well reflected as well! I used to have this fear as well but then I... realized. You are welcome :tighthug:
Reply
:iconmarieellis-tolke:
~MarieEllis-Tolke Sep 4, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
I have an irrational fear of vomiting. Although, maybe that's not so irrational. I don't know. In all seriousness, though, this is another great piece from you. I especially love all the dialogue in this one. I feel like it makes everything more real and in the present, if that makes sense.
Reply
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