[x]

zeroi swore
i would never number the poems
i wrote about myself because that
would be like ticking off the days
until my breakdown;

i was a moth, unapologetically throwing myself
at any gleam of hope; wasting my wings
on industrial promises

colors always felt much more
appropriate for the purple boiling
beneath my heart and the pallid
purposelessness of my head,

but i was born into a colorless world--

no one sees me behind the metallic scars
of my skin and iron grating of my voice against
the grain; no one sees me as more than
gray regret or monochrome mistakes,
no one sees me but

all i ever wanted was for a
fallen god with feathered he

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

RestlessI’ve been living in the same breathy dream
for too many days now; I’m bed-ridden and
stale and I reek of those moments that come
full throttle like a car crash on a winter night

   this is evolution where weak hearts
   are afraid of the shadows and where
   everything changes,
   an apologetic wind births no remorse;
   he will move on—anchored ship
   set sail, I am the sunken wreckage
   that never learned how to swim.
   he will move on, Darwin says
   I never had a chance

I wish I were the textbook sadness,
symptom and solution and endurance
but I’ve spent too long sleeping on the

ghostwriterhere, everyone’s pupils are dilated
and skin is stretched too tight
to expose the wind-swept spider webs
writhing beneath their porcelain composure

here, the shadows are afraid of us.

(and it is our desire
to finally come down to that place
of completion
where we
are
simple skeletons
with bleached
bones and
detached jaws)

at night, the rigid ghosts rock me to
sleep. their cardboard hearts and
inky eyes just begging to be seen

(it is only in the
darkness that I am
perceived to be more
than I am; holy
nightlight, exalted
star to guide them
all home

sleepily but
steadily blinking
out.)

the current carries my name,
I have spent

upon leaving edensend me far away to where
the sun shines silver like broken
mirrors and wild things wander
through the night; places with
funny names and maps etched
from tree bark & lichened stones
that line up end to end for miles:

where truth is a birthmark that
scars us by, upon the coast
glass of wine- toast to the rising
moon sublime. dreams are in third
person, cupped by the creak of
wild woods that whistle, and teach
us what it means to be alive.

come, nestle up against cedared
fantasy & watch the birds fly south
for the winter, hoping for something
other than white sand & buried treasure.
save all our tragic souls from becoming
what we should

tense intentionsiv.
you lurk behind my sternum and
lace my uneasy breaths with
doubt and self-deprecation, I

can't breathe. I
guess I didn't need to sleep.

ii.
I am smudged in between the lies,
an asymmetric astrology chart
mapping misguided dreams

when you make a wish on me,
I sell away another piece

(I wish I were my own)

v.
it was always me, it was always
the blood clotting in my heart
and words coagulating on my
tongue – I swallow cyanide to
vomit up my narcissistic tendencies

iii.
it was nothing that ever mattered
when the dust settled and you
could finally remember my name

(and you settled down into my bones
deciding I was

Almost Perfectthe sun is melting away,
we call it romantic when
all good things die quietly;

I feel like I’m always transitioning
through different levels of sobriety:
spent up on the people in my life
like the girl who doesn’t remember
my name and the boy who thought
I was joking.

(I will care for myself, and
then the world will stop and
spin in the right direction;
the mirror will blur and
I will finally see me,
unfiltered and beautiful)

I just want to believe
that somewhere there’s a boy
ready to sing my bleeding ears
to sleep

with a cinnamon voice, he
will tell me I couldn’t
possibly be human: something
otherworldly,

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

WelcomeI'm ready for a romance to ravage my heart and tear apart my
dusty limbs, I'm waiting for someone to take my breath and
never give it back; I'm prepared to sell all I was for a trip
somewhere new - beyond the paper mistakes I sailed away
down the river long ago. (even rocks and leaden thoughts
won't let the truth sink.)

I left my being somewhere under a waning summer sun
when the trees hummed melodies of moving on;
my soul still stays there, porous and pining and
lost. Dying stars don't lead home.

I suppose
it's more than just losing
your words, it's losing
you

too.

I am someone who mourns Sunday morning for another lost
w

Storybook AddictionsI want you to love me as much as you do
the thorns in your side; seeds planted and
forgotten and bleeding cyclically.
when the swallowed night drowns and
drains darkness like a trickled lullaby, I want
to be the last thing in your dreams.

I want to be your mistake East of Eden, your lack
of redemption; when they tear apart your paper
flesh with metal claws, I want to be the one you
come crawling back to with bloodied knees.

[right now I am an empty vessel, unfulfilled
and metaphorically obsolete. I want to clear
my throat for once, without seeing the ashes
of my disease.]

I want to love you like a swansong;
breezes make your bones ach

scraps and sacramentsyou,
beautiful siren girl with melodies
entangled in her hair: you are
shell-shocked and sea-struck
even though you cannot stand
the sensation of sand beneath
your toes.

you have fingers for prying, picking,
pulling at your skin and nesting
in that hollow space between
your bones. and if anyone asks,
you will swear there are monsters
sleeping in the concaves of your ribs;
there are ghosts beneath your tongue,
embittered, and you are not the words
you speak.

they say there is an answer, little girl
(sometimes you begin to believe you are
a scarecrow on the border of reality
begging people to turn the other way;
and the mirror will agree)

don't forget to let me go(the worst thing I’ve ever been
is an accident)

my words have no filter and I am
too many apologies bound
together by the stringent belief
tomorrow is worth more than today—

remember that summer when I was
beautiful? all covered in amber fog
and delivered like a dream. I was
a porcelain promise, a lavender
whisper, a breathtaking cancer,
and so many other precious things

I just want to go back to that
time where I was unmolded by
mistakes and words unsaid
(it was never you

I have spent too long trying
to drain out every tear from
the ocean, my love,

simple tasks are for the
weak of heart, it was
never you)

I am still be

the leper and the lambbaby boy grew up and
the thorns left his crown;
his sides cry red,

it scares me to hear the
same stories in his sighs.

he is the kind of poetic violent whose
words are like calculated anvils; he
dissipates between my bones and

my heart will burst, I swear it. I am
afraid of balloons and the imminent
explosion of my delicate monstrosity
rising through my throat and suffocating--
but it’s really beautiful

when he turns over and rubs the galaxies
congested within his eyes. I believe in
shooting stars and intoxicated nights and the
prickled promises intertwined between our
fingers, as I miscalculate how fragile I really am

it&rsquo

Pocket StainsShe keeps pens in her pockets,

and the ink bleeds

d

o

w

n

her thighs,

dripping into her shoes

and soaking through the soles,

so that people will see her footprints

and know

where

she’s

gone.

with thanks to salingerAudio version.
it's on those cold mornings
when you are nothing but indrawn breath
swirling and knitted up inside too-big
skin and weightless bones--
when the horizon arches up against
the half-thawed tendrils of sunrise
and smiles
with golden teeth,
and smiling, begs--
it's on those cold mornings
when leaving is easiest.
the car will be cold, and you will
shiver, and the engine,
much too loud,
will smack of blasphemy
but you will find peace in the steady roll
of tarmac and the yellowing light
spilling across it,
with dust motes kicked up and carried
like fish in the undertow.
when you come to that first
crossroads, it will shock you:
the way the decision hangs there
trembling and desperate--
but there are no right answers and you will not
hesitate. and each successive choice
will be made of its own accord,
and you will roll the windows down,
and draw down the scent of ear

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Unfavorable for Evelyn Taliettefeathers flutter slowly
they don't
crash
the same way people do

they linger, drifting through the breeze
which doesn't favor the angel
stripped of her wings

she grasps, hopelessly
for something that could bring her back
(redemption?)
she believes there has to be something
to take away her past

she grasps, hopelessly
but her fingers only find feathers
which now join her in her fall

gravity doesn't favor angels
with flaws of mankind

and so she falls
crash

Dreams of an AngelI.
"what do angels dream about?" Lindsay asked
I thought for a minute
"they dream to live like us."
"then why did Rachel want to die?"
"goodnight" I said, and turned out the light

Rachel used to sing to the birds
she said sometimes they just wanted someone to show they cared
and she serenaded them
until she was sure they felt important

II.
in the car, Lindsay broke down
the black veil she wore seemed to be more
than an article of mourning
"why do they make child-size coffins?"
"Lindsay—"
"did you see her?
even dead, her spindly fingers reached out
but… I couldn't grab her…"
I held her ha

When Words Escape You"sometimes we look so hard for answers,
we forget the questions.
I lost myself, again, today
swimming in your words...
Maybe this is just me?
Drowning in a steady stream
of undeserved emotions-
paralyzed,
watching my fall with open eyes
regretting every misspent word,
(because, as I just found out-
you're only allotted so many
and I've used all mine up
so I could mope and pout)
Somehow even though I tell myself
in steady hums
the wrongs you've done,
your words take it all away.
I guess I'm blessed
shock inhibits thoughts-
I've already shown myself a fool.
I used to wonder where you were
what you thought, why you left

Reverse Polarity and a Little Bit of FateHe believed in angels
She believed in lies

she was hummingbird-reminiscent
gifted with flight, she strayed from sight
and her secrets were hidden between her rapid wings

He counted his lucky stars
She cursed barren skies

her laugh resonated, hollow
it echoed off the walls she built
to keep intruders out

He fell for her, hopelessly
He dreamed only to make her smile

she pretended he didn't exist
still, he was drawn to her (like a moth,
to bad ideas)

She told him she was too far lost
(Though she was only in denial)

his eyes glinted, golden
bright enough to melt the frozen rock
she had called her

Within Your PalmsMy world exists in your vast hands
I'm under your control.
You make these deadening demands,
but I cannot withhold.
I feel so small in your cold glare
to question this, I couldn't dare...
I feel so small,
I feel so small
I'm breaking, do you even care?

I told myself I fell for your words-

My world exists in your vexed hands,
I'm at your beck and call.
You breed disaster in my lands
just to watch me fall.
It makes you god to act this way-
destroying, tempting, changing fate.
It makes you god,
it makes you god
(try not to break me in your play)

-because I couldn't stand that I fell for you.

My world exists in your cracked ha

A Sky of SmogI.
"what if every star out there, twinkling
is every dream that's ever come true?"
she asked me
"but what about the stars that burn out?"
I replied. She didn't respond.
she was too busy searching the night sky
hoping to catch a dream

II.
"what do you want in a guy?"
I asked one day
when our heads were empty,
but our mouths were full of words
we didn't quite know
"I want someone who can understand me"
and she sighed as though it were only a wish.
"Oh," I said
"I just want to fall in love
so all these stories I write
won't be lies"
and we laughed as though it were only a joke

III.
when she first fell in love,
she flew so

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Lovebirds' Sorrow

by ~intricately-ordinary, Jan 28, 2013, 12:00:11 AM
Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

she was the girl with cat
eyes: broad and judging and
carnal; he was the doe
with a broken collarbone,
yet she found herself lost in
the warmth of his sighs and
asked simply for a set
of sweeter lies

[because it's only after you
sell yourself to the earth that
you learn love is not a
chemical reaction anticipating
every ignited glance and soured
word; no, it is a thing
of obligation that sleeps upon
your doorstep, knowing you
will always come back,
knowing you could never forget
its name]

he called to her on hollow
nights, and she found his
voice when she had nowhere
left to go

he was the cereal box savior;
she only needed a place
to bury her bones

[it was never sparks but
instead a dull roar that
filled their ears until
life was a blur of static
commitment]

when she whispered I love
you, he really believed it.

Lovebirds' Sorrowby ~intricately-ordinary

Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

Vita de la mia vita
I will remain within your light because I fear the looming dark.

love 1 1

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~Flummoxative Feb 12, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Probably my favorite from you so far. This. Is fucking gorgeous. Can't even pick out a favorite part. Beautiful language, evocative images...

~intricately-ordinary Feb 12, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

oh gosh you are just too lovely

~disrhythmic Feb 10, 2013

no, it is a thing
of obligation that sleeps upon
your doorstep, knowing you
will always come back,
knowing you could never forget
its name

You have this really refreshing way of looking at things, you know that?

~intricately-ordinary Feb 10, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

wow, thank you so much!

~Dandi-Lions Jan 30, 2013

^{This is beautiful! I saw it featured as =star-blazer's lit pick of the day and adore it. Congrats!}

~intricately-ordinary Jan 30, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

goodness, what an honor. thank you!

~tiajones Jan 30, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

i love the second stanza

~intricately-ordinary Jan 30, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

~hgfdsasdfgh Jan 29, 2013 Student General Artist

This....

Wonderful imagery in this piece. It's beautiful.

~intricately-ordinary Jan 29, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

just like you

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Lovebirds' Sorrow

Lovebirds' Sorrowby ~intricately-ordinary

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