Love,
Two (naive) names
Carved in bark
Gilded in my veins
Trees tying roots
and lifting concrete
A twisted ring
Caught between my fingers
Rubbing my scalp
Old and wrinkly
Thick binding
and soft pages
Pushing me forward
And having my back
Purposeful
Getting-on-my-nerves while
Locked in continents of conflict
Then
Wondering if the sun
Gets jealous of your light.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Monday, January 2, 2012
Weary
I want to
be flung open,
not broken
into
be
Pealed back,
not bitten.
Collected,
not picked apart.
Inscribed,
not written.
Fall,
not trip.
be flung open,
not broken
into
be
Pealed back,
not bitten.
Collected,
not picked apart.
Inscribed,
not written.
Fall,
not trip.
Split Ends
His yes was a maybe
my no was a sometimes
always walking on different sides
of the same lie
my no was a sometimes
always walking on different sides
of the same lie
She'll pull the earth from under you
She was made from war and peace
silence and screams
you can buy gold with her dreams
her words are erect
they break down barriers
and build up walls
depending on the shade
of her lips
today they are crimson
and she'll rip yours open
her kisses are stolen
you will ask her
where she is from
and if there are more
silence and screams
you can buy gold with her dreams
her words are erect
they break down barriers
and build up walls
depending on the shade
of her lips
today they are crimson
and she'll rip yours open
her kisses are stolen
you will ask her
where she is from
and if there are more
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Hold Still
"Hold still"
Pried open and painted over
black lacquer and white letters
in bold
too big font
only for the near sighted and
blind
they say love is
slightly raised on the surface
that's why you always
have the urge
to touch
Pried open and painted over
black lacquer and white letters
in bold
too big font
only for the near sighted and
blind
they say love is
slightly raised on the surface
that's why you always
have the urge
to touch
Mor(fiend)
I have been beaten
torn into tiny pieces
thrown in the air
to celebrate his independence.
I have crushed him
with my fists
sprinkled bits
in my tea
and sipped slowly.
torn into tiny pieces
thrown in the air
to celebrate his independence.
I have crushed him
with my fists
sprinkled bits
in my tea
and sipped slowly.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
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