[x]

Sun Child,I am freezing
& I am hungry
for fever’s lips-
her inky fingers
purging
a dry stomach.

My body is an ocean,
my limbs, but oars.
My tongue & teeth,
a life raft
keeping this madness
from sinking into blue.

Offering up 102 degrees
of skin;
You would think
I had something to say.

Muse:She corrodes star shapes into
the hearts of sleeping poets,
slowly, methodically.

It's all about her,-I had never wished to know the moon,
or the burning gaze of her lover.
I am merely a forest of silences,
old dogwoods & untamed hair.

-But, I made a promise
to a bone collector once.
He could have my spine,
my kneecaps, &
one flowered rib,
wrapped & bowed-up
like a present

-if he could fall in love
with things that slip through his fingers:
Me,
the sea,
shooting stars.

-“It would be a sin to love you,
my dear sweet wolf;
you will always cry for the moon.”

No wander about it, just lust.You were a mid-morning train wreck,
the embodiment of poetry.

& my clavicles whispered too many nothings
about your summer storm hands,
folding like paper cranes
to make wishes upon themselves.

wishes are for the weak-
stand up,
do something about this quaking heart
& freezing fingers.

Anything.

I think I found God then,
lurking behind wanderlust eyes.

Collection of poetic nothings.We were opal Tuesdays,
mosaic butterflies
tattooed into the
rose garden curve
of my vertebrae,

gliding me through this wild youth.

But, like Icarus—
I was a sky conqueror
& these silk wings

touched the sun.

-

My inhalations are heavy,
like the earth he bruises
beneath his fingertips
as I chase silence.

"You've got a tongue
made for words." He says
against the arrogant thorns
of my briar spine.

"Learn to love yourself."

-

How do I say I love you
without saying I love you?

"I want to replace my heart with you."

-

You are spider silk woven
into my harvest moon
heartstrings, spider
limbs traveling this road map
of s

I am trying to be honest,but I write so fucking flowery
it makes me sick,
rose scented stars & love.

No.

Her: helpless as a lamb,

I want raw, aching
bone against bone
exploring the exposed, naked
poetry of her universe-

( warm, celestial hands
forging sandcastle ribs. )

Southern earth beneath her feet,
wanderlust burned like Apollo's touch
into her spinal cord, please awaken
the empty space between her skin

& mine.

Poets have the loneliest hearts.I drink morphine
like peach tea;
down 6 pills by morning
just to keep my mind
filled up
with nothing.

& I know I can go days
without speaking a word
but-

I want a moon shy girl
with wolves at her back,
bite mark ankles &
a bottle of writer’s tears
tucked under one arm.

I want to be end of the war
kisses bruised into her hipbones;
the epilogue written over her
tiger-striped skin.

With these wisteria limbs
February cold, &
these weak lungs
exhaling coralline whispers,

I’ve got a tongue for words
but still have no idea how to love
a universe girl.

Hear me howl.Tell me again, Father,
I’m the perfect daughter-

when all I want to be
is the crescent moons
resting like strong soldiers
in the grooves of my palms.

I am but
(outgrown)
lonely bones,
quaking with frostbite,
numbed with rage.

A wolf's jaw:
locked, teeth tearing
into the chilled flesh
of your neck.

lub-dubThere are lovers
I will never be able to
crawl out from underneath;

I’m caving in, lungs
no longer able
to exhale lovely things.

However hollow, I’ve got
these artist hands,

these god hands of mine
that can save lives.

What’s the point
when I’ve got little
writer veins

& no one can ever seem
to find my pulse?

fly.this is hard for the world around us to grasp:
these wildfires raging in our retinas
& the sins we wear like demonic similes
on our tongues- they are not enough.

& i am so fucking sorry of saying i'm sorry.

but, tell me,
what is a young poet(ess) to do
with veins made of kite strings?

NaPoWriMo: Day 4I might have a scrappers knees,
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.

-

Oh atlas,
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.

So please;

lead me,
lead me
anywhere,
but here.

The rule of nines.I know more about half-moon palms
than most know about lifelines

the kind that beg dandelion child,
love-yourself-breathless.

I know about forged castle ribs & broken homes.

Myths that are half fact & imaginary friend
turned bogieman -

Fangs that tear clear through ice-bone hearts
like they are nothing but pretty paper
to be folded over, again & again & again
by the hands of quivering youths:

Icarus, the reincarnated
sky conqueror searching for warmth.

NaPoWriMo: Day 2sometimes,
i have this
sudden urge to cut
my hair.

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.

instead,
i have fallen in love
with the strangest of things-

eyes that intimidate
godless boys.

the way my scars
play hide and seek
with her hands. -

the love letters
that start and end
with kisses
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.

Depression like lipstick stainsOn some days,

you are the angel dust
settled in my bones
keeping these December limbs
& Sunday-morning-coffee eyes
warm.

But, other days-
other days, I don't know
what to do
with your tornado kisses,
rage teeth that bite
& tear at my poetic insanity.

With these miles and miles
of bodies & hollow space
between our magnetic hearts-

How is it that these light-year pulses
still beat in sync?

Browse More Like This

Download File
TXT, 624 bytes more ▶

More from *DearPoetry

I long to set this world aflame.I once dreamt of ashes and dragons,
as dark ravens loomed over my sleeping form,
planting cadaver kisses along my neck.
Stepping into a river of colors, I contemplated
smoke halos and the unlit cigarette between my teeth.
I asked myself if all of this was worth it-
gasoline rainbows painting landscapes along my thighs.
I'd never smoked a day in my life, but I liked to play with fire.

[Light a match and watch me burn. ]

Are you Gay?My heart threatens to gag me.
Needing to exorcise a demon,
these speechless fingers tremble
against silent computer keys.
Voice hiding, far off
in one of those dusty shelve books
with the yellowed pages, smelling of
age and wisdom's of years past
one finds in a 25 cent bookstore.
I think I'm dying, gagging and choking
on words that lock themselves willingly away
behind a worthless, self loathing poets tongue.
"I don't know."

I. don't. fucking. know.

I must hate myself, or this demon that breathes
its hot, angry whispers inside my head
would set me free from a castled prison
built within the marrow of these cowardly bones.
Sp

Leaving you disarmed and speechlessI wish to write in Latin,
the romanticism of the Anglo-Norman,
in the dead languages of poets long past.

[exotic, gag worthy.]

Because you know better than anyone:

I write better than I speak.

SLAMAt a young age,
I had to learn to dodge stones,
grow angry scales
along innocent freckled skin,
and open my eyes to a world not quite ready
to hear this tigress's voice.
Speaking in tongues to those paid too listen-
of fairytale wars, battle scars,
and the many linoleum squares I counted
day in and day out. I became mute.
Escaping through rabbit holes and back alleys
into a world of ink and worthy paper cuts.

[ I wear these
       paper cuts
          like a fucking
                   fashion statement! ]

And this goes out to you-
The Eden snakes, you dead-eyed demons:

It is you that keep me up at night,
weighing down these

We're all mad here.God's biggest mistake,
She sanded away
layerafterlayerafterlayer
just to see her wishbones.
Calling boys peaches,
hoping they'd taste
just as sweet—
Mad cats and top hats
had her questioning
her own rose garden reality.
Because upside down
is right side up,
and holy rollers think her
much too butch for her own good.
As she prefers lipstick kisses
over slithering tongues.

View Gallery

Featured in Groups:

#Pencils-of-Doom
After School Art Club

#PoetryIsTheAnswer

#LooseLacesPoetry
Poetry Feeds Our Souls

#The-Free-Pens
A Writer's Sanctuary

#AspiringWritersDojo
Don't ever stop writing

#Creative-Writers

#Literary-Visions
Transforming words into worlds

#PoeticalCondition
A safe place to express yourself

Show all (26)

Details

Submitted: March 3
File Size: 624 bytes

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 93
Favourites: 462 [who?]
Views: 3,439 (2 today)
Downloads: 79 (0 today)

License

Creative Commons License

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.

[x]

A lion among sheep.

by *DearPoetry, Mar 3, 2013, 8:07:31 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

There are ghosts in my bloodstream kissing concrete cells & the bedroom eyes of nerve endings. ( foreign words engraved into my marrow, birds in my chest & wars not yet fought between my hips. ) I've taken myself apart every night since I learned how to swallow a pen without gagging; limb by steady limb. Passed around by grabby hands, a sold, & borrowed daughter; I am a lion among sheep, drunk on life & ink.

A lion among sheep.by *DearPoetry

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Clearly I didn't get these words from my mother.
_{_{I'm adopted.

Featured: [link]}}

The Artist has requested Critique on this Artwork

Please sign up or login to post a critique.

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~chancerox Mar 8, 2013 Hobbyist Digital Artist

poetry takes us apart in beautiful ways

Reply

*imaginative-lioness Mar 5, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I have featured this piece in my journal: [link]

Reply

*DearPoetry Mar 6, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you!

Reply

*imaginative-lioness Mar 6, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

You're welcome ♥!

Reply

*Betterthanempty Mar 4, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

This just... gods be damned. This is great stuff.

Reply

*DearPoetry Mar 6, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you!

Reply

~disrhythmic Mar 4, 2013

I've taken myself apart every night
since I learned how to swallow a pen
without gagging;

Reply

*DearPoetry Mar 6, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Reply

Mood: Pleased

~cutiewolf15668 Mar 4, 2013 New member

love it

Reply

*DearPoetry Mar 4, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you.

Reply