[x]

LuckyA lucky fly
skitters and loops
near aimlessly
onto your ceiling
light,
where it crawls
inside and
spends its last
hour of life,
before a fluorescent
death, basking
in shameless
warmth;
transforming into
a tiny sunspot
that even you
would need
a ladder
to reach.

Polaroid HealI am alone,
memorizing you
with someone else today;
palms kissing palms,
warm and trembling.

That's one more point for you,
but when I glance back
towards your bandaged words
(and mine),
it's clear that I'm still winning.

Soap In The WaterA young boy smashes plastic boats and planes
together in a soap-filled
bathtub ocean.

Some water slips over the edge
with little explosions
bursting through his infant mouth.

His grandfather left the bathroom door open
so he could keep an eye on the boy.
But right now he is turning
up the volume on his TV
and trying to sink his ears
into the musty, threadbare couch.

NudismI was one of those deaf-mutes,
a shy flame,
a candle left on a park bench
lit and melting
drops of wax between
the wooden seams.

White water from a stone fountain
slides past shooting-star coins
leaving little bubbles in the grooves.

A child bites her mother on the grass,
and I thought she'd bleed caramel
and I thought about animals
(wishing on a drowned out star).

I'm forming quiet,
oil-scented puddles on the ground;
this fountain holds a shimmering
metallic cover beneath the water.
Natural art museum,
a shy flame getting pinched
by licked fingers,
smothered in conversation.

The BeachThis isn't much,
but whenever someone tells me
to put a shell around my ear,
I hear your breathing
with my head resting
on your warmth.
I know it's just
the blood rushing
around my head.
I know, it's just...
the sun in your hair
and the salt and the sand.

Vulgar WordsShe is worried about
sex and love
and qualities of the mind
while he is busy
being him.
We have seen this all before.

Poetry is a hangover
stirred with an orgasm,
(add cream and sugar to taste).

It is better
if they both cared,
but worried all the same;
and love destroys them.

It is best if
neither of them connected
and they were both
already committed.
His children would
rush to the door like puppies
when he came home exhausted.
Her husband would
make breakfast
just to surprise her.
Orange juice and eggs are
cheaper than
starchy counselors,
and twice as delicious.

But instead, they are
going through an
existentia

RxI would prescribe for each
and every one of you to
spend an uncomfortable amount of time
with someone more medicated than yourself.

It doesn't matter if they see things,
or refuse to feed their guts,
or happen to be so anxious that they
can't
stop
shaking.

Just lounge around and pretend to drink
untouched coffee. Smoke unlit
cigarettes. Let them choose the
conversation topic; it will be interesting-

It will be about
demons.
It will be about
fireflies.
It will be about the kinds of things that
stand over your bed and burrow deep into your
chest with their lighted eyes.

He or she will make the case
that every medicine shar

Sepia LightHe could be the lead of a silent movie
in all its sepia glory. There is
dust on the film; and light-
that shines hazily through the smoke and jazz
of the old world.

She smiles while beauty marks pepper the screen
and nobody notices. Not even him.

There is a woman stroking the theater piano lovingly to hide
the voices floating through the air as silent as ash.

He waits with impious attention for old-fashioned lines
to cross over the stage and whisper something,
something new to him.

But anything that could waltz off their tongues
is caught and held by the cigarette filter projector.
Left to crackle, as the piano moans under the w

Inside OutA warm summer
in prison, late morning

orange on gray.
A forest held behind

barbed wire
leans in, ready to hear

the whispers of
guards and their keys.

Smuggled by the wind
is one low whistle,

then another.

Call It SweetHe placed his hand gingerly on the
gossamer swarm of bumblebees
raising honey from the clay;
his fingers curled slightly as they
accepted his flesh like petals
under nightfall lacking nectar.
Life was built under the
shade of his palm extending from
a trunk with one
quiet, pulpy heart.

When morning awoke with the sunrise,
its yellowed mosaic of wax
had branched up his arm:
he was nature (un-moving,
immutable, so sweet that sweat
could just drip from a stranger
extending his arms to embrace you).

He smiled,
made a fist and pulled neatly away,
stung and laughing with amber sugar
crystallized on his skin.

CloudyThere is something worse
than writer's block;
it's when the words come in
through the heat,
through the loneliness,
or the sheets with
writhing contentment.
It's when the words are right
in your head
for paper or someone else,
and all I can mutter is that
my head hurts-
and I need to go to sleep.

Ignore AdviceWrite ten bad poems.

Write one hundred
bad poems.

Write profoundly.

Write and drink.

Keep a notebook with you,
write in public
and make sure that others
know that you are, in fact,
writing.

Write a love poem,
then throw it away
because all the good ones
have already been read.

Ignore advice,
write about the decision
instead of the feeling.

Write one sentence
-make indents,
say to yourself that
this is it, THIS is IT.

Then delete,
and tell yourself that again.

PeakShirtless in bed,
on a lonely
saturday night.

An impatient man
writes impatient
poetry.

Violet Lightning1.
Violet lightning pulsed
between the clouds.
I wondered how much
electricity was trapped
within my ribcage.

2.
Pulse, flash;
pulse, flash.
Thunder roars with
pride and it
starts to rain.

3.
I have never seen a
soaked umbrella look so
shapely before. All black coat,
bright hazel eyes that scream
so softly under dripping mascara.

4.
Our first date is traditional,
which is odd because I'll soon
find that neither of us are that
type. The dinner was too cheap
and the movie: too expensive.

5.
We held hands the whole time;
she kissed my cheek in the cinema's
private artistic darkness.

6.
When sh

Speed DialI walk downstairs and
dial the phone
with my eyes closed
and instead of the moan
of a stranger's dial tone,
someone picks up and says
that the leaves are turning
where she is
and the wind is cold
and the lake has grown hard
-what do you Americans call it,
when you can see yourself like glass?
Ice, you call it ice,
the lake has become ice
and her English is poor
but she has always wanted to visit
the United States of
America. So I tell her
it's alright here
and in some places the sun
burns hot throughout the winter
but we have places
with red trees and ice as well.
She thanks me and the receiver
clicks alone
and we ar

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On TimeThe more you think,
the less you have.

The more you have,
the less you think.

Think
feel
act;
we don't have time for everything.

Lost In Winter (WIP)Looking for something to do
between birth and the
big surprise.

Could I just stay warm with you?
Said the sun to the
frozen sky.

I won't let you grow cold too.
So they stayed distant:
lightyears wide.

Dance In Broad DaylightHe was knifed in broad daylight.
3pm Tuesday afternoon
classic stabbing;
while crows watched
from their cars and
so did the birds.
Ha, clever.

I bet his blood seeped
into the pavement.

I bet his hand left a
stain,
like a print in wet cement.
We know it's there, but
nobody mentions it.

Bastards, every
single
one
of them.
Including him.

Same with you,
same with me.
And if someone
ever says
otherwise...

Ha, never.

They better get
gutted
in broad daylight
too.

Worth SomethingLife is so many
things; it is
so
many
things.

It is force-fed with
loneliness
unhappiness
rejection
pain
strife
hate.

And I think
it's over
far
too
quickly.

ExtinguishedI have met some girls, a few
in particular, in my
past who have had what you
would consider to be
strange habits.

Like, a blonde who kept me warm
and always smoked but
hardly ate. I guess
her stomach was always
filled to burst with smoke,
so there was no place for
food or much else.

She was always so
funny and
so easy to talk to
that it was hard
not to like her.

It was like staring
into a fire.

When she and I both died
for someone else, it
was okay and I left
without any tears (they had
burned up). But I
didn't have to search long;
I trip and spark like any other
hopeful loner.

This one stood on glowing
coals, push

God, Give Me A SirenI get up out of
bed and walk calmly
to the bathroom. Then,
get a glass of water
and momentarily
examine my scarlet
cerulean eyes before
trying to piss, but
nothing is coming out.

It's so quiet.
There are no sirens to
warn me that tomorrow
morning I could lose
another friend to
prison or
a hospital or,
or...
-None of my neighbors
are fighting; no plates
shattering into knives
against the wall. It
is so damn quiet.

Nothing is coming out,
so I go back to bed,
pull the blankets over my head
and can't sleep.

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Submitted: June 6, 2012
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by *FallingAsleepTonight, Jun 6, 2012, 6:52:13 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

I could find someone
that looked just like
her, but this is not
about heartbreak
so we will keep that
thought quiet
as I am convinced
it should be.

But I have spent the
past ten minutes
kissing a silvered mirror
and leaning down
to dribble sweet nothings
into the bathroom sink;
my hands gripped the head
of the faucet, hot water
dripping in streams down my arms
so my shirt clings longingly
to my chest.

The handle twitches
and shakes, but I am locked
for the moment.

Now, I have fixed my hair
and left quietly,
so someone else will have to
wash my spit off the glass
and perhaps the walls.

Occupiedby *FallingAsleepTonight

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

A rough edit, even the title is tentative, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated

Honestly, I like the concept and imagery but I think it could be executed a lot better

Totally changed the first stanza, it was originally:
"Wise men have said
that you must love thyself
before you can love
another."

Also added a few lines here and there, very insecure about this.

~~love 0 0~~

~~joy 0 0~~

wow 2 2

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~Lexie-Bluetack-1997 Apr 14, 2013 Student Writer

This is kinda a late reply, but this is so so good!
Love it

~Purplefairydust Aug 9, 2012 Writer

Wow. I love your honesty in this. I can feel a lot of emotion reading this. I can relate, I think. I also like how you add in a snippet of humour ; "to dribble sweet nothings
into the bathroom sink;"

*FallingAsleepTonight Aug 9, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Hahaha, thanks <3

~EchoplexSermon Jun 19, 2012 Professional General Artist

You have great imagery... awesome-sauce...

~emilygolightly Jun 17, 2012 Student Writer

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrgh god i love this.

*FallingAsleepTonight Jun 17, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

haha thanks

~KaylatardandPoncho Jun 17, 2012 Student General Artist

You shouldn't be, because I love it. The transitioning needs only a little reworking, I think, but the way you play with words and your idea is solid. Your poetry is quite enchanting. :3

*FallingAsleepTonight Jun 17, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Alright then

~sarpkayamesutselcuk Jun 17, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

"I could find someone
that looked just like
her......................... "

i was like that before. i understood now i can't find a lover who looks like my ex-girlfriend. i can see that it was just a dream. a dream that can not be existed in our dirty world...

love is really strange... there are few words to describe love in greek. agape, erotas and eros. agape means love, affection, fondness, affinity, liking, dearness. erotas means love, cupid. eros means courtship, flirt etc. and it's really interesting zero and nothing means love also ((: so according hebrew there is no real love ((:

i remember a song called "eyes on me"

"darling so share with me,
if you have love enough"

*FallingAsleepTonight Jun 17, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Wow, that's really interesting, I've always thought linguistics were cool.
Thanks

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