Scents from inside the suit intertwined their intentions with the sights of tangled and tessellated hair illumed by firefly LED's, spiking my circulation with memories and murmurs of dopamine.
I took her by the gaze; she steered her sight away from mine. I led her through a glance that involved no scuffling of hands.
She was one of two wayward strangers passing in the cosmos; two separate glances met as objects in motion tending to motion. People aren't the same however.
Drifter was the term we were known as, people cast off of vessels and ships, mostly by accident, condemned to trudge about the univ
I want your kisses on my neck
like angry lightning
and your fingertips stinging
every curve of my torso--
I want your lips kneading
silken heat into my collarbone
and your palms exploring
the highways and alleys of me--
because darling
your eyes are so lonely
and your scowls
only tempt me
into aiming kisses unto your lips
til you smile;
you know you're
a star, love-
but you smother your light
with self-deprecation
and you
abandon your brilliance
to anyone who wants
to throw it away--
give me your heart
and I'll
The rain comes in
from the mountainside
and the musculature
quietens. The birds, the beasts,
the slanting cliff,
the light, the restless
hollowed emptiness,
the bits of lava and bits
of heartbeat and bits of
racing animal mind.
It quietens.
The rain comes in like a slow blink.
well, this ain't no home. by moon-finder, literature
Literature
well, this ain't no home.
it's ironic because
you did precisely what i never told you to do
and yeti am the one
staring at the freckles above the back collar of your shirt
while you walk away
with my graying heart
placed neatly in your pocket.
Why was it so hard for people to understand me?
To try to talk to me and treat me fairly.
Do they all think I choose to act this way?
To get attention and get my way?
Did they ever stop to think for once in their life that I cried every night
Trying to figure out when it will be right?
The pain that I carried because of my so called "friends"
Even now hurts me like it will never end.
People pushing and throwing me to the ground
Is now something I fear with everyone.
The pain and fear that I suffer will not be cured,
By a little bit of their kindness and simple words.
No one seemed to care about what they did,
Nor stop to try to
There was an odd feeling that washed over her on Saturday mornings. She sat dazed between unfinished paintings, white canvases with specks of reality, and piles of unorganized papers; they seemed to magically grow and multiply as if by an imaginary stroke of the hand. Some were bills she always forgot to pay, or letters from Dylan that always ended up, with the envelope still tightly shut, in the trash. You can read a person's personality, right to its gritty core, simply by examning their trash. She had Ding-Dong wrappers, ice-cream containers, sketches of people and people that were no-longer, and a rotting carton of orange juice with a lon
All it took was three little words.
Even before that
I was yours.
You told me you loved me.
And for you I took the plunge,
Braving rejection from all who I knew.
I admitted everything.
While you sat and watched.
My mind does not stray
From any thought of you.
Youre always there
Just out of reach.
While I stayed fixed on you,
You backed away,
Played with my mind.
One moment you wanted me
Next, you were just my friend.
Slowly confusing me more.
All it took was three little words.
Quick and simple,
You tore me apart.
You told me you hated me,
You stole my heart.
And here I die,
My heart in yo
now accepting applications... by YouInventedMe, literature
Literature
now accepting applications...
the smoke beneath your bed finally finds you
staring crooked in broken mirrors
searching frantically
for the fire of your former features
forever and ember
still breath and false starts
'til it whispers
sure
the universe is big business
constantly expanding
but the fact of (the) matter is
it desires you deposit d.n.a.
demanding genetic building blocks
on which to lay its foundation
and though the future of father's daughters
is
certainly uncertain
the sun set's assured
eventual
consumption
of
everything
meanwhile
I'm eagerly anticipating the arrival
of the non-linear one-liner
something like:
yes it all implodes