a real artistic type
wet and red and sharp
is it now or never?
down and flooded and alone
eye contact
yours or mine?
bloody and beautiful and shy
is it her mommy or daddy?
gutted and depressed and soft
ignorance, or bliss?
Tag: freeverse
fader
Arteries and Vessels close
stopping the blood from running to my brain
crunching bones beneath my toes
sliding into frame
I stumble through the wood
hoping to go home
Branches cracking
Like sticks and stones
A moment of clarity
Shining through the thick
Hurtful and old
It’s short and sad and something I cannot face
Beautiful and bold
Crisp airy meringue
With red berries on a pastel plate
My heart icing over
Right back to being tight and cold
Together and alone
Clarity hiding
The moment is gone
Lost broken and disowned
To the blood racing
The crunching muddling my cold mind
Polar air in the warmth of night
left behind
feast
her heart wasn’t steady
a ship in a storm
your constant tugging of doubt
porcelain in versace heels
shining and talking politely
medication and daddy issues
is this what could have been?
dress never wrinkled
reasonably educated
a muse for your artistic endeavours
manic
pixie
dream
girl
shes falling and
grasping on bodies and trying to get back up
tripping and slipping and
holding onto the warmth of blood to blood
spaced out
close to death
close to pain
raw throat
wishing she could go back to those times
slamming on the cement
in the bathroom you are trying to stop her
knuckles bruised
bleeding and blacking out and bleeding
not back there
she cannot go back there
you wont have it
matters are tough
and feelings are sharp
shallow pangs
you feel nothing
she is rotting
flies on the meat
swirling and feasting
Demand
I burn a deep rich green
Peeling into 21
I wear black
I want to feel it all
I bloom pink and soft
Later flowers are the most driven and solid
Thick hearty petals and stacked plant flesh
Afraid to be sexual?
“I think I’ve faked more orgasms than I have had”
I burn a dark luxurious red
Let the flowers open
Ask Or demand
Burn the colours you need to be
Burrito Boy
he smells like he’s homeless but he lives in Beaches
he’s eating a sushi burrito.
he’s all about pretend panic attacks and shiny excuses.
daddy’s money, daddy’s boy.
living on the 56 floor and doesn’t know how too cook
city living metro man
If you get what you are given,
Do you ever really get what you are given?
If you take what is there,
you take it for granted.
Plantasia
And my neigbours are old but they are up later than me.
My spelling is bad, yet I still write poetry.
Personality, personality, writing needs depth,
No rhyme scheme no syllable counts no breath.
My bare calloused hands killing flies,
With sheets of polyester, pizza boxes and zip ties.
That line was hard to swallow,
Like cum and medicine and pills and sorrow.
Tw eny ty forhour da y
Stateless yet nuclear
The father is in full lux
Passive aggressive heat fights
Roadside
Discarded retainer,
Its been a good six months Bessie.
Its not me
Its you.
Growing up without a mother.
Yerning
And,
As,
An
Do my.
Or/ing
He,
By,
Ing.
At of,
On,
An/as,
Up.
Spring.
Starrfishing 