[x]

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,

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

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

Ashes to Asheswhen they peel back her skin they
find a feeble layer of stringent
exigency saved up for the people who
would lend her a light on her path
to gossamer fabrications, she's

lost herself in fairytales like
the crumbs that don't lead home
and the girl who needs to sleep off
a few decades before things can
fall into place-

she dug her own grave but
it turned out to be a rabbit hole,
she's sea sick- she lulls
it's
a little disarming when the waves reflect
your mirrored malignance and the
only way out is
down
(her siren song sounds like
a martyr's last motive)

she sighs and p

Empty Nestand as your sepia-saturated voice fades into the night

you will remember all those dreams you woke from,
weeping, for the conversations you'd never
have and the people you'd never get back

you will remember the flock of birds that used to
reside in your chest, pounding against your
ribcage, crying to be free (and you will try
to remember the day their wings went silent)

as you hear the leaves hum and the sky pulse,
you will try to fall into cadence with the steady
music of nature, but instead begin to believe you're just

an outlier.

you will tell yourself, in your needly, narcissistic
way: you are a falling star, a withering cel

Expectantwe're waiting

emaciated souls fall among the
promises of a better day,
memories drape like skeletons,
and we sleep, hands together,
to try and be pious prior to death.

we forgot how long it takes to take
a life, as we write novels about heroes
and purity that we're too afraid to call
myths. the art of distraction is a
nasty one, at that.

the clouds are rending, it's always
hurricane season when the trees cry and
the oceans mourn. the heavens are
caving on top of us as the children
dance in the rain. purged clean,
washed out, they were expecting to be

free- but there are still spiders in their
throats, crawling through th

ColorblindI gave away my name today

and it might be a metaphor, but I think
we only remember the quietest suicides

the walls are thin enough to listen
as the angels try to scratch free;
bloodied fingernails and God says everyone
screws up, sometimes

I'm waiting for a silent night.

I only ever believed in solid ground
and depressions' tides, and sometimes,
those little wounds I nursed deep
within my vocal chords (because
my voice is dying, too)

I can see the beautiful people, now
overdosing on their own opiums of
self-acquittal and dissolution

they ran out of ways to ask for help.

I'm fragile, but my glass ribs
aren't holding much

and

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

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

Nighttime Ramblings and InsufficiencyYou drop your jaw,
and you pull words out from
hiding, deep in your throat.
You wretch up a mass of
unfiltered, unedited, reality
because you believe that's what it is
to be understood.

You leave a trail of mutterings
wherever you go
no one will ever want me
it's not enough
and i'm sorry, i'm
so so sorry
Do you remember the difference between
a shadow and a ghost? (the world ends
the day the sun won't shine)

Instead of sleeping (maybe
tomorrow won't come if you
don't say goodnight) you wait;
you will not be remembered, and
that is the scariest part-
you were never loud enough.
i'm s

expired warningsI hate to break it to you but we're all betting on the day when
your nightmares will swallow you whole and you won't
remember how to open your eyes. we forget your voice,
it broke and no one buried the pieces. we're giving you up:
secessions (your ribcage is a civil war, your heart is the victim.
there will be no memorial; there are only red flags)
obsessions pick your bones dry, vulture needs, vulgar
mortality argues at least you're not alive

at least you can't see us anymore, counting the knots
in your neck and catastrophes in your mouth. in
your summer cage you were a soggy butterfly bearing
a cumbersome cross. now, we leave yo

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

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More from ~intricately-ordinary

Subliminalthere was something about the way his whispers
entwined around the vertebrae of her neck
and caught in her ragged throat
that was reminiscent of nights long ago:

a heavy sky incensed with fears
forgotten, and a boy with full moon
eyes. she blamed her starry stomach
when she gagged on innards, unaware that
she herself was actually

undigestible.
stale and forgotten,
lingering like a smoke cloud off the lips
of someone with nothing better to say.

Lovebirds' Sorrowshe 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 bur

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

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

Hear No EvilI don’t know what you think you’ll find in the hollows of my lies
and cracks of my spirit but it’s not me; courage is the weak voice
in the middle of the night that says we’ll try again but
I am deaf.
truly, though, I clawed my ears out and fed them to the beasts--
an offering of all I had:
the words I’d never need.

I am a secret, can you taste me coating your tongue? I am
that lie you never let slip, I am every mistake you ever made, I am
regret.
I am the demons nesting in the back of your mind as you
mourn for lost nights; yet I am only chalk,
I will line your feet one day--
the paths you traveled dusting

Insomniacs and Insecuritesthe ground is a friend, feeble feet meet stability
and never return. it listens, oh, it listens
with tiled ears and absorbs all your secrets.
fault cracks, your fears seep underneath
the pavement, someone knows
that you cry at smoggy nights and
run out of words when you stop to breathe
and you drown in your thoughts, no
one taught you to swim, your

stunted, stilted stature goes stagnant and
this is destiny. it was written in
the storybooks that the princess would find
an answer in the murky depths and her
prince would turn out to be the
desperate attempt at normalcy all along

(raw,
plunging face-first through
vibrant v

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Submitted: November 14, 2012
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admittance is defeat

by ~intricately-ordinary, Nov 14, 2012, 7:58:05 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

they 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 patient.

you lie large enough to make us believe you
don't entertain nightmares, but what if
no one could hear you scream?

remarkable, it seems
caged birds really know how
to sing out

(you were always beautiful)

admittance is defeatby ~intricately-ordinary

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

Ever notice how some of the strongest people break the easiest?

love 1 1

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~Ad-Kins Nov 24, 2012

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

This makes me feel so conflicted. The first part is kinda whimsical and then suddenly!grimdark

~intricately-ordinary Nov 24, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

yay! I'm glad. I tried to keep it fluid and moving throughout.

~Will7744 Nov 22, 2012 Professional Writer

doesn't need the tag line, you say it in the poem - a lot of nice images that flow together without weighing things down or calling too much attention to themselves - you peel back the onion on your subject nicely here while evoking a good narrative - particularly like "there's a getaway map on the underside/of your pillow, and a lifetime of secrets/on the underside of your bones", that's a cut stone - you got chops

~intricately-ordinary Nov 22, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you so much for the feedback! It's always wonderful to know what I've done right, so I can continue to the same as I keep writing. Again, thank you, I appreciate the support!