moving
Hi everyone.
First, I want to say thank you for reading and interacting with me through poetry on here. It’s been a nice place to grow and I’ve discovered many beautiful poets but I’ve decided it’s time to move on. My writing is changing and I want it to be somewhere quieter, more focused on words.
http://machineseraphic.wordpress.com
I’ve moved some old writings over and there are a few new little things, but most importantly sonnets, which is what I’m endeavoring to learn and focus on now.
I haven’t decided if I will leave my tumblr up as an archive. Probably not. I hope you’ll follow me over at wordpress.
Thanks again. :)
Glass
I sliced my skin open so deep,
It will never be the same,
To know what I
Wanted to know:
How pallid- drains
Completely of the blood.
Bloated,
Corpse-meat
Amidst the live.
How it tries
To leave behind something
More than the perfect
Flesh could provide
Before.
To leave a distended scar
To leave
Something to remember
You by.
I haven’t rhymed in a long time, at least not intentionally or with effort, but this one wouldn’t leave me alone.
bug bite itch
blindfold lies
body sweat-slick
lost the dive
your face a movie
in my mind
left me
alone heart to bind
wet lips
smack
whip lash
back
humid in
the south
sob through
shut mouths
full moon
rise
gaze up through
dolly eyes
she is white cotton.
I am black lace.
she will give you
her hand to hold.
I would give you:
my breath to snuff out,
my pulse to still,
my heart to eat.
yet she is the one
you look at that way.
that way
she can never
comprehend.
she is an angel, yes,
who can’t offer you
that sin.
I would do things
you’d never forget.
but, oh, how you’d wish
you could.
lately
I only want
to sit in dark bars
drinking gin & tonics
and smoking big cigars.
so it’s
back to Vegas,
back to fear.
try to make it through
another year.
in the mirrored glass
across the crowded room
my eyes meet
your eyes
and then
it’s a whole new kind
of Fear.
You are the sea and I am only a shipwreck. Drawn by every siren’s call and sinking further to the bottom. Broken into thousands of little pieces. To become driftwood? Or treasure? I don’t know. It’s a gamble.
But I still want to be yours.
poets
a dying breed,
slowly suffocating
since birth.
choking on
all the words
we’d never speak
aloud.
and no one tells us
that it will be okay.
or pries our fingers
from the pens,
from the sheets.
because even though
we are strangers,
they know
there’s nothing here
for us.
just
make love
to me like the men
in the stories
please
Patriotic Duty
Who’s to say
we’re not already
in Hell?
It seems
pretty bad here
to me.
Bad enough.
We all know that we have
one purpose:
to die.
Slowly suffocating
our whole lives.
I put out the
S-O-S
but no one comes
and I’m not sure how to save
myself.
Crossing lines is usual
for Illegals;
not for me.
If he wants
a smoking gun,
I just know,
in spite of everything I’ve said
or done,
I’ll pull the trigger
first.
I just know it.
for all they know
I’m just the
girl with the flaxen hair
and you are
no one to me.
you may have me
but
only in the night
or in the
very dim light.
and when they
ride by
hold your breath
and
be still in the water.
