Anonymous asked: you're very attractive
Anonymous asked: I am an anatomy of crystallized silence and skin like an empty canvas, that bruises just from being lonely.
P.S. Don't Kill Yourself.: Angel →
sixfifteentwelve: When the wind blows that’s me tousling your hair. Don’t fix it. You always looked so gorgeous with that beautiful blonde strand swooping across your forehead. When it rains that’s me kissing your cheek. Don’t hurry inside. Tilt your chip up so I can kiss your lips. When the skies are…
High School Poetry: 2
Monsters My dad has this thing when we go to bed in my house; he closes up all the blinds, Locks all the doors, and double-checks them. He does it religiously, and it’s sort of a nightly ritual in my family. It’s almost like he’s trying to keep out monsters. When I was a little kid, I hated the toilet flushing. Not like babies do because it’s loud, I mean when...
I’ll end tonight kiss you without moonlight Too late now it’s better off somehow Don’t you fret our hours aren’t up yet All I am is in the palm of your hand Now you know your fears have somewhere else to go Now you see what your tears mean to me This plague I’ve got is bound to make me stop Yes it’s time for bed warm my shoulder with your...
City Skin: Vellum →
sleep-sweet: I want to make amends I want to make amends I want to make amends Richard Salt is clutching at his temple and idolizing country westerns, where lassos held the world together and love never hurt nobody. Perhaps it was all the times he watched women leave to save themselves that finally did…
boxwineconnoisseur: if i tilt my head just right i can see the sun through the tiny hole in the blinds where the string goes through it’s so bright it makes the hole seem twice as big or even three times for a second
P.S. Don't Kill Yourself.: To My Children →
sixfifteentwelve: If you’re reading this Something terrible must have happened Because I never wanted kids. Also, if you’re reading this Congratulations are in order Because I never really liked reading. So congrats to me for teaching ya’s something important. Finally, if you’re reading this I want you…
Attempts at Closure: 689489739874
There will be a time when I don’t love you when I’m dead. Until then, I guess I’ll take the aching.
I am writing this in the tire tracks that lead off the highway on the road home from school- 40 miles in a 65. My dad thinks we’re gay now because we like to run and eat pizza together. I don’t think he understands that eating pizza is code for talking to cute girls who look like they’ll have good taste in music, and I don’t really care that he doesn’t like it,...
P.S. Don't Kill Yourself.: The Death of Sorta... →
sixfifteentwelve: Superman first appeared in Action Comics #1 on April 18, 1938. The self-titled series was launched in 1939 and since then Every little boy has dreamed of being Superman And every little girl has dreamed of finding her Superman. Some have even done both; Like little girls more concerned…
: an hour ago i was trying to do math but i hadn’t... →
non-trivial: an hour ago i was trying to do math but i hadn’t slept well because wellbutrin keeps me awake and jittery. it made things harder than they should’ve been. i was also feeling down about everything, which is not news, but combined with the off center slightly sick feeling from this pill i decided to…
the first thing I do when I get home is run, put on The Front Bottoms, and attempt to understand the myriad of spiderwebs pulling me dusted toward weird corners. Wait. I mean. Well fuck. I mean what I say. Most of my poetry isn’t a metaphor for something- that’s just the way I see things. I don’t really get it. I don’t feel creative because all the language I use and...
boxwineconnoisseur: the goal is to stop being dramatic (making universal claims like “we’re all lost in some way,” “you’ll forever be a part of me,” etc.) while getting your point across. it’s okay to be dramatic once in a while, but it gets old real fast.
SOMETHINGNESS:: La Petite Mort →
oneofthosedeafmutes: Sleeping face-down, her tomb-white body lay in flux on my sheets – her back rose, fell, flowing like the distant Jordan river – the dawn dim leaked in through the venetian blinds – morningblue sunlight cresting over the parabola of her naked hip with each exhale – the sun rising behind a…
Anonymous asked: You are sunshine on a sunny day and water when I just drank a bottle of coke.
let me be clear
sending anonymous poetry messages on the internet does NOT make you cool. Or remotely interesting. I may be a boy with a lot of feelings (hence poetry), but I do not take myself seriously enough to attempt to write things for people who do not make me feel things, to wax eloquent and wordy about situations I know nothing of, or in general to attempt to make “poetic thought” (which...
theclassifieds: at a certain point you just have to be arbitrary and have to use the color of the next traffic light to determine your future.
theclassifieds: so it’s possible to be absolutely attracted to more than one person at the same time. why is this possible?
Anonymous asked: You are an extra person, swimming through arteries, a metastasis of love, spite and something like pain. I'm sorry.
girl passing through: Birthday, for Jenn →
speciousstuff: by Andrea Gibson At 12 years old I started bleeding with the moon and beating up boys who dreamed of becoming astronauts. I fought with my knuckles white as stars, and left bruises the shape of Salem. There are things we know by heart, and things we don’t. At 13 my friend Jen…
I am bleeding backwards: here, feel my pulse. Touch the skin on my lower left back there is a ridge there where my poetry begins. I want to make you feel my feelings that’s why we do this, right? So I wrap them up in tongue blossoms coated with uranium hoping something sticks inside and changes you I do poetry because words are not enough and some people don’t like to be kissed on...
sleep-sweet: A child date-rapes his imaginary friend. He does not know what love is, or how God is, but he has instincts, and he cannot speak in English but he can speak in mutter. A man takes a belt to his wife, you broke everything you whore. His son had worn that belt to his very first high school dance. A man is dying, cold and alone. He is not aware of the time of day, and he does not know...
boxwineconnoisseur: a soldier’s tale
Pick-up Lines For Pathetic Poets: 28
let’s dream of endings again like this morning won’t matter and we can sleep soundly knowing that tomorrow we won’t wake up.
peach, plum, pear.: I love being a bartender, even... →
plathed: I love being a bartender, even in a city of spandex dresses, of middle-aged men gazing into the bottom of their pints, almost as if they expect to find their long lost souls floating in the sediment. They stay because the lights are dim and home gives them nothing. Because their daughters think…
Anonymous asked: hi nevada im a followernfdsweeb yes
Encounters with Jesus
I love Annie because yeah boxwineconnoisseur: Jesus sat next to me on the park bench, smoking a Newport. I asked him if poets go to hell. “Read the damn bible,” he replied cheekily. “I’ll never reference you in a poem again,” I muttered, offended. He offered me a ring of roses. “Can I have a cigarette instead?” I asked. “No.” “A kiss?” He was silent for ten minutes, for longer, maybe — I left...
if we were shadowboxing then you could still probably see my ribs in sharp relief. If fashionistas and stair-wells had anything in common, it’d be that they both elevate things that are easily taken down. Ooooohhhh, he’s so deep. Coming off of the perpetual high horse from which it seems myself and every other fool who writes seems to favor, I want to ask you a question. Who the...
above us the sky is blue even at night
boxwineconnoisseur: my head’s a wishing well mostly pennies ‘cause the economy’s shit what’s left of the water reflects the grey of dawn and by late afternoon festers green with the cat’s squirrel a rare few quarters twinkle by the statue a caricature of the poet as an old woman it’s funny; she looks twenty
Untitled: Buying Local →
hoyesunexito: Sweaty hands Upset stomach Driving home Sun in my eyes And only a cold glass of orange juice Will make me feel alright foreign skin in the darkness carpet floor show me where to go and this is the last place I thought I’d be I thought you’d never know But give me a break I am…
Growing Up A Runner
Makes you think about things- everything, namely- in terms of how much distance you can cover in that amount of time. I’m not much of a runner anymore- I do Slam Poetry and try to make pretty girls fall in love with me much more than I run, but bear with me. I just heated a cup of tea in the micro for 40 seconds. I can run 200 meters (that’s half a lap around the track in normal...
I know that you are drunk by the message in my phone and even though you won’t stay with me I won’t spend tonight alone (not really) and I could throw away my empty cans but I’ll leave them on the ground and I’ll stare at all of my friend’s hands I’ll wish you were around I met Jesus at the bus stop he said we’re gonna die again someday I asked him if I...
P.S. Don't Kill Yourself.: From the fingertips of... →
sixfifteentwelve: What if we thought of every person in the world as just somebody’s relative? Instead of your best friend, she’s “the freakishly athletic cousin.” Instead of your professor, he’s “the crazy uncle who always makes those weird comments.” Instead of your crush, he’s “the weird cousin who drinks a…
I met Jesus at the bus stop he told me I’d die again one day I asked him if I was happy he said “I don’t have much to say” asked him if we were dying he said he thought we’d be ok
non-trivial: do you think they’ll let me stay here all night? i won’t make a sound. have earbuds in. pretending to be a writer. but everyone’s leaving. i’m scared. the room is so so big and wide open. if i threw a penny it wouldn’t hit a wall.
and we’ll give each other fake first names like the things that we’ve been through they all make us the same
let me put my clothes on so I can take them off again
S C O T T I E | H U G H E S: swan songs →
scottiehughes: There are sombre shades of yellow and grey lining the interior of the train, and as the car rumbles along she remembers him as one remembers swimming in the ocean as they lay down to sleep— as she closes her eyes, she feels his swift turn tug at the small of her back and the wind sweep out from…
I'm trying to be different in all the same ways
non-trivial: i’m only myself around two or three... →
non-trivial: i’m only myself around two or three people. with everyone else (like my parents) i act the way i think i’m supposed to act, not even to avoid conflict, just according to the expectations i feel that i must adhere to. most of the things i say when talking to people are little more than…
finding comfort in foreign lips