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scar-crossed(my fingers are colder than the solemn blue
buried in her eyes. so much dead beauty,

like an ocean without waves).

she is fading and i cling to her,
and in this tiny little moment
between breaths

we barely even exist.

outgrowing gillssea-cradled urchin
child has a salty heart yearnin'
for a glimpse of mother moon
tiny spiked wunderkind
punk, studded belt
you know life's answers well
shuffling through the seaweed-less halls
missing the ocean swell
tidal waves foaming at the mouth
everyone is laughing now
at the boy born on a boat one sunny afternoon
cause mama loved the sea like lovers love the sheets
landlocked kid is homesick and
sea sure, he's searching for the sea shore
life's a blur for Davy Jones at his locker
capsized by sea-legs on solid ground, he finds his seizures
and he hates his earth mother
he hates her
for falling for the ocean and
how he's rocked by the moon
how he's mesmerized by her glow
her pull on his sea-conceived cells
no
he hates her too
for the puking in the stalls
for the ridicule

summergirlNow read aloud over here. Do give it a listen, won't you?
i. summergirl,
you are crowthroated and tumbling
through the aspen grove
hair on fire with sunrise, lungs
full of sky.
eyelashes like wildflowers
and every morning brings
a new spray of freckles
and a sharper curve to your collarbones.
the cornfields hold no shadows
for your lighthouse eyes
and there are no endings in that
surefooted smile.
ii. you have grown
so fast.
autumn finds you with broken ankles
leaning on an oak branch
and watching the skies.
crow to sparrow--you are quiet.
summergirl, there is peace in silence,
perched treetop,
fallen antlers in your hands.
you will come to mourn your deer.
keep them close.
iii. by winter you have paled,
and like the streams
your eyes have frosted over.
you feel the chill--
there is no need for sight.
summergirl, th

Primevaland I don't smoke, but all my poems talk
of cigarettes and ashes because my father smoked
for forty years and now he can't breathe

and I can't breathe.

the chill from the rain seeps through the glass panes
and feels swollen in the loneliness of a crowded train;
the air is pregnant with an umbilical thread
connecting us to something intangible,
something necessary to our being

yet we don't exist at all.

smoke and vapor crawling out our mouths;
we talk because the silence is sometimes frightening,
and because we're searching the dust visible only
in the places where light bends for words that won't disappear

Of Lost Causethey say every lonely sigh gathered from children in that city
pours through her body and redolent skin, read through
the ink of vines on veins and restless, small leaves- torn with
tired hands and god's lost smile.

they say our days are numbered, like the
creases between your skin and the break of waves on starving oceans. maybe
the fallout of a country drawn by prophets with cracked chords and
an endless list of listlessness.

they say happiness is glorified by the example of science: the reaction given
and reduction taken in a stretch of paradoxical lies of paradoxical truths-
sounds of simplified silence and their tenuous strains

Revenantthey came like phantoms;

oceanic whispers left me washed out.
those gossamer ghosts that lined
the doorways-- eyes in a constant
state of surprise as they reached for me:

needle fingers pricked, fueling
my addictions. they ached
for my veins, entangled like
the strings of my paper heart

and they stained my skin,
amethyst bruises in the shape
of recognition.

their breaths were the heavy hums
of a forgotten lullaby "one day you
will leave, and you will fade into a
virulent void, like us. you will warm
our icy bones, and we will love you,
like no one else can.

go back to sleep, little girl, we will
come again" with their cer

always half finished
i can tell you how much i loathe anyone or anything that lingers, even when they're beautiful. My anxiety disorder can't handle any of that. Yet it's been 1 year and 1 month and i'm still stuck in reverse.

nauseated is the prettiest emotion i've felt so far cause for once, i can see an actual physical rejection, rather than these invisible strings snapping on the inside, but never showing even a blemish on the outside.

my screams have begun to ferment as they remain bottled up in what i imagine to be gruesome-colored vials within the shelves of my intestines. each vial must be carrying individual, heart-straining yelps, yelling and sobs f

i found a body"i found a body made of light and wood."

human,
with pieces of fleshy bark pasted on
roughly, unevenly-
as if its creator were a drunken artist.

from the rich-brown wooden body
tiny green buds spurt;
and beneath the bark,
a hot light glows
bubbling between the cracks of wood
as if larva would pour out if a piece of bark
were to be peeled away.
a swarm of buzzing fireflies,
lingering near the magnificently delicate body.

the body belonged to a man I talked with in my dreams.
his peculiar mind babbled with demons -
they were long and fleshy
and fell over
like old flowers
bowing in sorrow.
the righteous

I hope you are reading thisthe person I love loves music much too much
and the person I love loves that I love the quiet and easy days
loves that I like to stay up late (or early) till the birds sing of morning and
the person I love loves that I love to hold hands and hold a body but only when I know them fully
and the person I love loves listening to my songs and listening to my voice and to my poetry and stories
the person I love has songs to share too and a voice that melts my heart and words that mold it back into something nostalgia old and inspired new
and the person I love loves to look around and take it in once in a while and wonders why we can’t just run away to a secluded place in the forest with a cabin that harbors all of our needs, keeps you and me in a space apart where it rains when we’re sad because we would always be sad together and where the sun is warm on our skin when we are smiling together and laughing together because I made a spectacular pun out of seemingly nothing sp

-selfless-slipping from the sky
one lonely star
grants its last wish

wingsto the bird-girl; i thought by now you'd know,
your wings are nothing but decorative.

you can hover, love, but never soar and you'll
never clasp the sunshine in your fingertips,
never touch the moon in the instant before the rain.

i thought by now you'd have found them;
they ( fiercely clawed and bright of eye )
who tore you from the nest, all alone -
and yet all you do is flutter by me,
you delicate butterfly; help yourself.

you're lonely and everyone sees it; you're longing
for a world of your own, you're a dreamer,
it's blindingly clear to us all, darling, run away -

flee the chaos you were born into,
pluck those feather

astronomerswhen we're together
dusk is containable; the moon in my palms
and the stars on your ceiling.

we lull the city to sleep
with our theories of life; my tongue curling
into speech.

do you remember,
when Jupiter was a silver wick, lighting its countless moons?

that night,
you balanced a cigarette off your lips,
and I watched the vermillion flame burn life
as a newborn sun;

stars forming,
planets moulding and constellations snaked
above our eyes.

i imagined
what it would be like to be curled
inside the embers – creator and destroyer
of worlds,
so close to your lips.

nostalgianostalgia is for the things i never had;

for summer days spent in blooming fields
instead of empty lots,
for moments under a careful eye
and hands that were callused but never rough;
they say a boy's first love is his mother,
but i preferred my father, maybe wrongly because children

love with their heart and not their mind,
they think in bold patterns,
and i return to those days when i traced the sidewalks
in tattered shoes,
when i hummed songs in a language i've half-forgotten;
i still dream in spanish and

i have nostalgia for wire, for mariachi music,
for boats and afternoons that never ended,
for the fairwe never we

little white lies tissue paper skin and barbed wire spines
"i haven't been sleeping well."
butterfly wing smiles and porcelain bones
"the medicine will help."
sparrow hearts and rose petal hair
"don't worry."
undersea eyes and sailboat stomachs
"these things pass in time."

and I still keep running into parked carsMama,
your baby girl's swimming
in dead of the night
hair, scarred knees,
overgrown weeds, and
countless pairs
of shoes-
with those
orange and yellow wheels
that hug my toes
and heels

I'm running into
parked cars
trying to get
my kite to fly
and hiding under
dashboards
listening to you
fight

I'm rummaging through
boxes of secrets
that Daddy tried
to hide-
solving puzzles with pieces
I'll never uncover
in these thoughts
of you

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ugly hungerI.

the wolf in her
heart is whimpering
like a pup hungry
for pure milk
but all it is given
is blood--thick
and warm in a
foreign way
one that isn't the
love of a mother
or love of any kind.
II.
in the dry shade
lies the beast of eden,
her heavy jaw slack
from gnawing rotten
fruit and he is saying
with sweet, red skin
between his teeth
she was asking for it--
how her thin fingers
wrapped and pulled
and plucked at the forbidden-
ness, this is no confession
he hisses like the snake
in his heart.
III.
we are all victims
says god

impression IIin the waiting room
she hushes her arrhythmia
with a soft press of her hand
to her rising descending rising
descending chest.
her finger strokes the flower petal
pink pattern of her summer blouse
a carefree voice chirps, "I love your top."
blinking rainy eyes, she chokes "thanks,"
and swallows the weight of the
feigned gratitude thick on her tongue.

impression Ishe dresses slowly, slipping
tired arms into little black dress--
sleeveless holes hide nothing.
the morning light spilling in
shadows his back, casting shoulder blades
in high relief.

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misunderstandings

by *0hgravity, Jan 17, 2013, 10:38:55 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

left.

you

when we finally felt right, turns out, we were wrong.

I

fell.

263

23 56 0

misunderstandingsby *0hgravity

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lot of stuff going on here...not sure if it works.

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Submitted on: January 17
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*SCFrankles Feb 17, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Hello ^^ Just letting you know that I've used the title of your work in a piece of found poetry for #TheTitlePage. In my author's notes I have provided a link back to your deviation. (Well, of course you know all about this ^^")

If you want to see the finished poem, it's here: [link] .

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*Souzay Feb 5, 2013 Student General Artist

This reminds me a lot of e. e. cummings. I always admired the fusion of the aesthetics and words.

I can totally read this different ways to obtain different meanings that fit your overall theme. It's like reading both sides of the story at once.

Did you mean to create an image to represent a door? I mean I get the falling down leaving going the other way thing. Just wondering if there's more to the spacing.

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*0hgravity Feb 6, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

that's pretty cool

glad to hear that. I wanted it to be a very interactive piece.

I actually hadn't! it does sort of look like a door. an unintended additional layer.

thank you very much ^^

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*Souzay Feb 7, 2013 Student General Artist

It certainly is

Ahhh or a fork in the road??

you're welcome

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*0hgravity Feb 7, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

yeah that was kind of my intention. two people going off on separate paths

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*Souzay Feb 7, 2013 Student General Artist

Yeah, totally got that right away... It's a great poem c:

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*0hgravity Feb 7, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

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*Souzay Feb 7, 2013 Student General Artist

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*0hgravity Feb 7, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

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`HaveTales-WillTell Jan 22, 2013 Professional Writer

Very nice. I appreciate not only the juxtaposition of right/left with right/wrong, but that "you left" is a left turn, and "I fell" is a drop.

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