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About Literature / Artist JonathanMale/United States Group :iconwriting-to-live: Writing-to-Live
because words are necessary....
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FallingAsleepTonight's Profile Picture
Artist | Literature
United States
22, Oregonian, college student studying nothing close to poetry.

Note me if you'd like to talk, because I like to talk.

None of my work may be used without my permission. I'm pretty lenient on what it can be used for however, so just be sure to contact me first.


I am sure that everyone has a bed
that taught them how to be afraid.

pushed gently onto her sister's

"it's been six months", she says,
her blonde hair over her blonde chest and hands

my perfect zipper.

sometimes when I wake up I still smell her carpet
and my failed teenage sweat.

it's been six years

and that moment still shines like a favorite painting
of war and broken bones.

maybe the sidewalk is where you learned

or the hallway of a party

I've heard the stories-

shining like your smile shining
like teeth.

because I am a man I know
I am not allowed to feel like this

like my body is the knife and curtain

my insides are rags.

your shining meaty canvas is the perfect template for
some hands on jackson pollock-ing-

I want you to kiss me and know I taste precisely like
a stripper from Texas

three young men in a king-sized basement

gin-vomit on a garage door

peeling wallpaper

true love and disney love.

open your shining meaty heart.

let my brunette arms down inside your hips.

I am the slick burning ocean

I am the monument to what remains of your youth

you are the frameless tilted painting
of a landscape

made of mountains and snow.
you are bent

have overgrown your pot entirely.

survived shots of vodka,
twenty foot drops
days of my absence

your roots grow up, out, and green now
like leaves.

schefflera arboricola my name is homo sapiens

you feed off my breath and I yours-

some constant drowning engagement.

when I pour you water I always drink
and I think it's ironic that my name in our language means "wise"

as it is you that has learned
to survive with me.
is this what the light is supposed to feel like.

my feet are cold and I'm hungry

I put on piano music when I am alone in my room
because we all know that it is beautiful.

when I close my eyes I imagine my bed as a raft

in the open ocean.

my bed is draped in black blankets and blue scarves,
it is a blessed gypsy wedding

me and the sea.

a love of my life is leaning on one corner.

her feet are mysteriously dry.

burnt yellow light through my flat glass clouds
and the ocean is calm, as I picture it to be

I sit crossed-legged in the very center
because I believe the water is cold.

cold, salted, and shining

from her voice on the edge I hear her say
a lot of people imagine this

it's comforting.

and the scarves in the weddings are supposed to be red.

I push her in.

I'm trying to be funny

she hits the floor and screams

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why do I waste all afternoon
thinking of names for butterfly weeds

the delicacy of their patrons

their tentative tongues-

and wings of light like shitty hindi tapestries
pinned to bathroom walls.

I want wings like that.

I want

you crawling on the floor
in the ways of higher creatures.

let's eat this leaf together

eat its veins

one after the other.

can you feel that

after the other.

everyone wants to be told they are composed
of something delicate.

that they are not just things that devour.

latex and leather
you are


and paper.

what are you trying to be

I believe if we pray to be quivering chitin
that is more than enough.

pinned to your walls I am machined tie-dye
and paint dust.

is this all I could want

my wings are only tapestries now,

gazing at them makes me think
of another name.

the green of me inches and worms across this earth

my eyes are fireless facets.

in the chrysalized morning light
I turn

to you

the ceiling

clean latex from my lips
and promise to be a better animal.
my friend lent me

a book she thought

was important

I don't

have it now

I told her I've finished,

but I just

have not yet

inside me

there is shadowed mysticism

and canopic jars

placated in a dry night

he placed in me

a small desert village

where a young girl

with green eyes

like pond scum

dies in her sleep

like he is dead

on this silent

still breathing earth

he would be

at least

one hundred and five

his bone dust drifting in the soil

the smooth green rot

waiting at my door

like her

a stranger's warm

ancient, upturned bed

I lay and consider

dark magic

folded underneath

the neck arches

my firm bundle of white cloth

unwrapped and draping

over one edge

I open up

and still

recoil at the smell

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KittySib Featured By Owner Feb 16, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
:airborne: Happy Birthday!:cake: :party: :D
LucyDahliaRyder Featured By Owner Jun 28, 2015
Hey!:) I mentioned you in my latest journal! You should go check it out!:)
dearjuly Featured By Owner Feb 21, 2015
Happy belated birthday :hug:
FallingAsleepTonight Featured By Owner Mar 15, 2015   Writer
Belated thank you!
brokengod--veins Featured By Owner Feb 16, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday! :huggle:
Vandal-Bleu Featured By Owner Feb 16, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
:la::dummy:HapPy HaPpY BirThDaYY!!:cake::party::iconbummiesplz:
remanth Featured By Owner Feb 16, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy birthday! *throws confetti* :party::cake::dance:
StarlightComet Featured By Owner Dec 7, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
*aggressively tries to favorite everything in your gallery*
FallingAsleepTonight Featured By Owner Dec 13, 2014   Writer
Hahahahaha, wonderful
metamage Featured By Owner Oct 11, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Oh, dude, it's gonna take a while going through your stuff. Oh, DARN!
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