JealousyYou ask me why I’m jealousJealousy by ConcreteGypsy
I sigh and tell you I’m not
It’s just that...
I hate the thought
Of her bitter lips on yours
Of her fingertips tracing trails on your skin
Do my fingers follow the same path?
If I were to kiss all of you,
How much would be mine alone?
And how much would I be sharing?
I hate the thought of her sweet words
Capturing your heart
Taking pieces of you
That I will never have
I feel like I’m grasping at fragments of you
Desperate to hold on to whatever I can
Terrified you’ll slip through my grasp
Sometimes the look in your eyes makes me feel
Like you’ll never really be mine.
Sometimes I can’t sleep
Because you’re not beside me
And there’s nothing to keep you from slipping away
Because I know
You’re not dreaming of me
You’re all I dream of.
I Bet You TasteI bet you taste likeI Bet You Taste by ConcreteGypsy
Every flavor I hate
That I’ve ever spat out
And scraped off my tongue
And tried to wash away
With liquor and cigarets
I bet you taste
Something left alone
For far too long
In the dark
I bet you taste
Like something burnt
To the bottom of the pan
When I forget the stove is on.
I bet you taste like
Every flavor I hate
So why do I keep
Coming back to taste
She chased wolves all the way back to the sunSunsets would break and collapseShe chased wolves all the way back to the sun by grew-up-a-screw-up
Between the gaps of her spine
Sliding past the summers aching breaths
They’d reside in the hollows of her eyes
Cold lucidity seeping into her ivy sewn ribcage
Her songbird synapses collapsing into the skies
As they caved in upon themselves
When the earth opened up and swallowed
Her day dreamer retinas
And pasted over them in night time symphonies
She was Pegasus palpitations hung up to dry
When the stars could no longer bleed
And the trees would split into a thousand storms
Held tightly under wraps by green eyed spirits
And hungry wolves clawing at her open palms
Lions den whispers echoing between bated breaths
She'd tear the sun apart
To feel the liquid light filtering through her veins
Swallowing down the liquid heat
Of lonely summer days spent
Hiding on scraped knees
Betwixt negative space and human nature
She was the weather torn kill joy
Hunting the sunsets to carve her name into the sky
The boy who hides in drugstores and late nightsBlindfolded airwaves hide his forest veinsThe boy who hides in drugstores and late nights by grew-up-a-screw-up
Where not even the moon can touch the lonely heart
Resting on his tightly buttoned sleeve
Insomnia drawn deeply into the creases of his eyes
Galaxies humming in time with his stuttering heartbeats
He hides behind nightlights to burn out his demons
Because the devils in the detail
and he's one hour away from tearing down the sky
Splintered amber bones searching for serendipitous moments
He longed not for the stars but rather
For those moments where the horizon kisses the earth
Bonfire irises with a knack for chasing time
Longing for the sun to seem real again
Carving his name into walls to be remembered
As the boy who went down swinging
NaPoWriMo: Day 2sometimes,NaPoWriMo: Day 2 by DearPoetry
i have this
sudden urge to cut
most of the time,
i just wish I were anything
other than me.
a rocket ship, a bird-
the sweet flavored smoke
I promised my girlfriend
these briar patch lungs
would not in.hale.
i have fallen in love
with the strangest of things-
eyes that intimidate
the way my scars
play hide and seek
with her hands. -
the love letters
that start and end
pressed against limbs.
i make promises
i know i can not keep.
but if i were a liar
i would say i was tired
of writing to the stars.
NaPoWriMo: Day 4I might have a scrappers knees,NaPoWriMo: Day 4 by DearPoetry
wildflowers growing on my knuckles,
& I might remind you of every nasty thing
you ever did,
but I don’t see you in my mirror.
I just have the right
to hate my own face.
I think this hitchhiker’s heart
is breaking &
I don’t have the medical skill-
or the time
to suture the pieces
back together again.
I'm just me. Me is a little spaztastic. |
Current Residence: In your head
Favourite genre of music: Classic rock, indie, hipster stuff you've never heard of
Operating System: Mac please!
MP3 player of choice: My dear sweet Ipod, Lyra
Shell of choice: My turtle Fonzie's
Wallpaper of choice: The kind I can peel off
Skin of choice: My own
Favourite cartoon character: Shaggy
Personal Quote: It is a scientists job to ask why. It is an artists job to ask why not.