[x]

Therapists, I don't like their taste.i.
in 7th grade
i didn’t know depression
until she told me her name,
carving forever scratches
along my limbs like
little love notes on the bark
of a tree.

she stole my rings
and left me hollow.

ii.
i had only ever met anxiety
in passing, until one day
he handed me power and told me
to hurt someone else with it.

iii.
inexperienced,
with an uncontrollable
quivering in my fingers,
he whispered, “ to survive,
you must learn quickly.”
as i shoved the bevel of a needle
into a strangers arm.

iv.
so, if a therapist
could talk away my scars
like iodine disinfects,
guide the ships
through

Please,don’t make me
fall in love with you,
again.

I don’t want to remember you,
those Sunday morning
wake-me-up kisses,
or the way your
lost boy eyes always,
always found a way
to find mine.

There are only so many times
I can allow you to slice
through my scar tissue
before I finally

fall
ap art.

lion boyi knew a boy with
eyes of gold & fire
in his footsteps.

he would roar to the
stars, declaring himself
as fearless as a king
& as regal as a lion.

"ad lucem,"
he would announce
every night when leo
would coax the virgin
from her radiant
castle.

five times around the
sun & loyal fangs bared
to shield his kingdom,
my lion boy
dances with flames.

I Am FlawedFrom body to soul and in between,
They blotch the parchment that is me;
I know of worse flaws I have seen,
But surely
I am flawed.

I sometimes lose my temper,
Use my mouth before my mind;
I ponder things I could do better,
And regret them for a time.

I can be harsh, I can be blunt,
I tend to hide my thoughts;
But this is far from what I want:
To be in someone's heart.

Comparisons are hard to make
Since we are all unique.
But half the time my words are fake;
The real me is a freak.

Regardless,
These flaws define me, describe me—
They make me what I am.
In that light, I'm proud to say that
I
am
flawed.

Confessionsthere’s a lot I never told you

one. I have a habit of lying, about
the simple things (like, yes I
forgot to remember and I swear by
soul mates and I’m in love
with your susurrus voice
and no, I’m really doing fine).

It was not an act of infidelity because
I believed it, too.

two. I’m infatuated with the concept
that I am more or less fictional, the
delusive beauty a million men will
dedicate novels to: I am fragile,

a dust angel sent to save the world
from commonalities and
myself.

three. Since I’m not allowed
to remember your name

I will commemorate you
in acts of escapism,
killing off the pieces
o

String TheoryThis is determination,
existential numbness in which
I drown from the paranoid spittle
of that dreary-eyed girl
lost in the mirror.

Jesus,
what would you do

if you saw me now, all grown in
to my predetermined curves and
the nihilistic fabrications knotted in my skin.

Maybe you still want to be
a brain surgeon. Maybe you still
weep when you’re happy and stop
when you’re lonely, drooping over like
the puppet no one remembered. Maybe
you still smoke like it’s a defiance, and love
like it’s a war; maybe time preserved you
like a corpse in formaldehyde, and maybe

you still think of me,
too.

i shouldn't write when i'm stonedpeople say you're
an asshole. but that's
okay because people say
i'm an asshole, too. maybe
that's one of the reasons
you love me and i love you.

but i think more than that,
i think the biggest reason
we're drawn to each other is
that neither of us fit anywhere.
we are both lonely. and we are sad.
but we don't care, and we love it.

we are good at being
alone. we are good at
being together. if i could,
i would paint a picture
of two souls tethered close
but sitting in separate rooms
and i would point to it. then you
would understand why we will
never come apart.

ExperimentalistShe always said she was
An experimentalist.
I knew otherwise.
This girl was raised to
Believe that the ability of
Counting the bones in your
Rib cage is beautiful.
Sixteen years old
With sand in her blood
And shoulder blades
As sharp as knives
As long as wings.
That day I knew
Her smiles were painful
And her laughs were just
Recorded in her throat
From so much practice
In a life that was once
So happy.

A little punk rocker with a gift for singing songsGirl with the rock and roll smirk curled behind her teeth
Burning her insides for fun because there wasn’t much else to do
Aside from skipping stones across car parks
And sipping the last dregs of forbidden liquor
Behind broken trees to keep up the act of normality

Late at night when the moon is asleep
She lies on dismantled bed frames
Counting stars because lambs are too often sent to the slaughter
Lucky star heartbeats and posy veins
Hides broken windows behind her pupils

Ceiling lights tracing patterns on her cheekbones
As late night contemplation's lead back to Rome
Atlas limbs curled into her ribs
With a sense of obligation she

this habiti have this habit of thinking without thinking.

my mind will be walking down a road
between cities

while i am plugging away at the factory,
while i am putting groceries away.

if someone were to ask me what i was thinking,
i wouldn’t know what to say.

i would have to wait hours,
long after they’ve gone,

until my mind comes through the door,
tracking all manner of shit onto the floor,

and explains himself.

Sea sonnet for the girl with ocean eyesShe was southern Californian storms
On a good day
When the skies nursed the shoreline like a wound
And the rain tasted like two scoops of mint chip ice cream

She held the nebula in her palms
And poured it out onto the sidewalk
So that the gutters would have something
To talk about at night

She swallowed the ocean
And held it in her eyes
deep pools
Of mountain rock blue straining against the sky
The bluest eyes I’d ever seen
Sparrow girl with the breathless wings

Embellished in vinyl’s and cassette tapes
Gramophone gilded lashes and half-moon wrists made up
Paper tapestries taped together with Shakespeare and Green

Sunday mor

AdultsI envy those people
who leave home
at eighteen
and live like twenty-five year olds,
looking out for themselves
like folks did in the good ol’ days,
drinking whiskey straight,
driving all night with no limits,
loving and fucking without apology,
never having to remind someone
that they’re old enough—
Goddamnit, they’re old enough
and if they’re not cut loose
they’ll suffocate to death

without ever having breathed
on their own.

Alaska is hiding behind her eyesA girl caught up in the same game
Where circus tricks and trapeze artists
Are nothing compared to the burning of lungs
Where insomnia stains the people’s smiles
In a pale wash of sea foam angst bottled up and thrown
Into the horizon where the sky meets the earth
In a disjointed seam

She had hurricane rage eyes
And wishbone sleeves pulled tightly across her chest
To suppress her Medusa heart from cracking
The stars open and drinking their flames

Ocean funeral where Chaconne
Is played to sirens and sea urchins
Coiled beneath the oily depths of seascapes
Where her kite string spines push against the thin membrane
Of split grin skie

On the road again searching for lost thingsLake bones carved into words
The slow baked Texas heat seeping into
Galaxy veins and Saturn ring irises
Like cross hatched road maps
Leading to lost cities gilded in gold
The skies nursing oil spills like a wound

Your cat eye palpitations lingering
Behind drowsy eyelids
Where childhood adventures of never growing up
Spark between neurons and sneakers pounding
On old dirt tracks
Boyish dreams of Milky Way heroes
Make up the constellations of your breathing

The TravelerThere was a girl
With a heart full of stars
And eyes that shone
Twinkling, like diamonds

With her soft leather satchel
She traveled through space and time
A soft sea escapade
She sought nothing but the journey.

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TW Chapter 28 - EzraElmira stood at the edge of the devastation, staring blankly into the gray trees. Everything dead. All dead, but left standing. That was the price Drew had payed. Such a high price for saving her. Was she worth it?

Drew broke the silence, "Which way? You said we had to get away from here."

Elmira turned towards him, and pointed off to the distance. "That way. It should lead to the other side of the forest. Hopefully Ezra is still there."

The two walked for a long while in an empty silence. Neither willing to question the other of the previous events. She herself still didn't understand what happened. How did the shade know her

Can't you see?I'm the brother with the hard shoulder
Wishing maybe it'd get a little colder.
Can't you see? Can't you see?

I'm the girl with the stone cold eyes,
Tired of all those prying lies.
Can't you see? Can't you see?

I'm the boy with the bloodthirst heart
Wondering why we'll never start.
Can't you see? Can't you see?

I'm the student with the empty stare
Whispering sick nothings to nobody out there.
Won't you see? Won't you see?

I'm the friend with the broken arms,
Pondering what happened to all of my charm
Won't you see? Won't you see?

I'm the one who's holding out stark,
Glistening in the silver moondark.
Don't you see? Don't you s

Immortal _Collab_They said flying is easy,
When you can't die;
It's just drowning in a pastime,
burning in addiction.

I'm sick sicksick
Of this never ending li(f)e

I'm almost scared
to check my pulse...
who knew a heart
could beat so long?

[I know yours doesn't]

You're just empty like
A barren field.
Piano key ribcage and
Silver lined veins
Is this what we've become?

This isn't what I meant
When I said we'd last forever.

Dear justagirlDear Justagirl,
I've been meaning to write this to you for quite some time. I've always wished that I could make you see just who you really are. But you never listen. So maybe you'll hear me in this letter to who you claim to be.

You're not just any girl. Not at all. Your silence brings beauty to the words of others. Your words crack open the things left unsaid, and shine light on all the places few dare look. You have a way about you that whispers of a majesty, and yet you always hold others up beyond yourself.

Your eyes could scratch past the surface of the "he

Words left unsaidone.

I wish you could see that you aren't empty. You're not worthless. But everytime you say it, you just forget a little bit more. I can't hold you up forever. I won't always be around.

[You have to learn to live your own life, I can't keep doing it for you]

two.

I still remember those sun drenched days, and starry nights. I still remember your voice, and the words we used to say. And sometimes I still remember the regret and pain. I try not to, but I can't help it. I prayed for you the other night. I wish you weren't so gone, even when you're not.

[How can so much regret remain?]

three.

I wish I could understand this thing c

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Words, Words, Words

by =platinummyr, Jan 1, 2009, 11:14:02 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Words, words, words..
What a wonderful weapon,
Says the little devil
Floating beside our shoulders.

What are these bones?
They're not quite brittle
Won't they ever hurt enough

But hearts, warm hearts
Now those, those are
Easy to break, and twist,
And tear so that
Ripe blood drips everywhere.

It is with words that we are broken,
And with anger that we shatter.

No amount of broken bones
Could ever hurt like
A broken heart

Words, Words, Wordsby =platinummyr

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Wrote this on [link] by

*Lilielo-Lawliet Jan 31, 2009

makes me think of spoons

=platinummyr Jan 31, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

Hehehe.

*Lilielo-Lawliet Jan 31, 2009

*MidnyghtLilith Jan 22, 2009 Writer

Words, sharp and swift cut deep
Poison arrows that never kill
No relief, not a moment's peace
Do his biting words leave me

=platinummyr Jan 22, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

~GrayceDreamer Jan 18, 2009

Wow. this one is just beautiful in it's sadness...and so very true. the little things we toss about with our tongues are so easy to say, yet remain extremely dangerous. Hard to mend, impossible to retract...

=platinummyr Jan 18, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

So true. There is no undo button for life.

~CartheInsane Jan 17, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

I like this one very much.

=platinummyr Jan 17, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

Thanks

~CartheInsane Jan 17, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

You're welcome

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