This is all one poem, I'm not posting 9 at once.
i had I LOVE YOU scratched
i had I LOVE YOU scratched across my throat in black ballpoint
and i tried to rub it off But it hurt my larynx and
Left Red Marks that i knew would kill us before we even started
i have never hoped before that power had died and
my words were still to be answer ed
out of the corner of My Eye i see Pretty Shadows dangling
from hooks in mid Air.
i think power dying is a special part of us, like when
you were listening to Nirvana and shrugged and said "no
Batteries" so maybe, (maybe, like the sun's breath on a
sapphire winter dawn) it's the same thing. and peach-
strawberry lipgloss doesn't mean a thing, nor does
Long Blonde Hair.
Hope is a rare thing, My dear, cling to it wisely.
But my common sense scoffsand scorns and i shrug and
see logic crawl into my mind and sit cross-legged.
i feel your rain slipping down
i feel your rain slipping down my back like a
cool symphony which wafts out of the door and onto the late-night streets into passers-by. i am one of those passers-by. to you. somebody left me out here
in your rain and although the cold is chewing my skin, gnashing its teeth on my cheek and my teeth are chattering, it's so beautiful to be surrounded by
your dripping icy silvery water. however your mind works, whichever metallic ways you tangle into logic, i try to comprehend.
SO I SHIVER AS TINY BEADS OF FREEZING RAIN
CARVE INTO MY SKIN LIKE FLAMES ON A MATCH.
i feel the coldness of a shadow pouring onto me like it is liquid and i feel its cutting breath slide into my eyesockets, through the crack in my lips and
seeping through my skin. i'm sitting hugging my arms and legs close to me in an attempt to keep in the warmth, my lips blue and my arms stinging
with goosebumps and then you turn and walk in the opposite direction and a great yellow sunshine spreads throughout me, replenishing me so the world
looks orange and vibrant again.
i can't help staring for centuries
i can't help staring for centuries at the back of your head. i never learn
from the BITTER UNFORGIVING CAUSTIC smoky sauce which entangles
itself around my TONGUE,
SEEPS into the salmon-fleshy pillows of the insides of my mouth,
all coming from the ASH- BLONDENESS radiating the entire room.
all the CIGARETTE DUST
collecting like rain inside of me, so every warm pink cell is stained
with BLACK GREY PEPPERY PARTICLES and alters my mind so i
FLING SLING
myself at red walls and stare at them for centuries, SICK of the
lead and carbon speckles that live inside me and are MORE THAN VISIBLE
when i hold a
tear on my
fingertip.
flickers of dawn light clasp onto
flickers of dawn light clasp onto my window and my hair.
night has steadied the earth, gra sping with its hooks to the core.
and now all that is wasted for morning lifts up the blinds
and breathes hot recklessness into the innocent sky
and the sweet ground
and the placid air.
dark could see clearly, it was rational.
but wild red light is blinded by carelessness and eyes behind which
no logic lurks.
coffee sits cold in the
coffee sits cold in the white chipped mug, sighing
and shivering, with its teeth violently chattering.
Bitter Words exchanged under the watery sun dart from
lips to lips and eyes look on in curiosity, i feel their
clear presence boring into my neck.
The Words FLING Themselves into your skin and carve
Themselves a trench in mine.
i'll regret it later, but for now
i let the blades dig into me, the liquid bullets
wash over me. my skin prickles. i scoop dry leaves
from the ground and CRUSH the pitiful matter
in my overpowering fingers. i see nothing but distortion.
and
you see my tearing eyes but cower not.
you speaking sunshine about me
you speaking sunshine about me to other people's lips warms
my eyes til they go from blue ice to hot navy sea-water.
i'd cling onto you and pull that black beanie over your
eyes if you gave me half the chance. only half, baby,
like the verdant leaves sitting on the trees these long winter weeks.
sometimes i feel like the other half, lying on the ground,
brown and rotting.
til you come.
i can taste the warm sun on my tongue, wishing it were
yours, but your words are second best.
coral syllables clutch at my crown. sea-blue breath
falls on me and i try to not let my eyes give me away.
with you sitting in front of me
with you sitting in front of me instead of beside me,
coldpurplesun isn't hotrainbowrai n anymore
still, the way you grin and look into my eyes is
good enough for me. my standards are not so high.
your pincers sinking into my sour pineapple citrus tongue
hurts like the end of april, but i keep coming back for more.
you are the salt on my wounds: you'd make me well again if i
Bothered to keep you close, but one dose and i walk away,
another dose and i walk away. just to have you as the only
one i stare at would bandage me and heal me But i can't seem to do it.
why don't you run your fingers through my hair and turn it
to silky, golden, melting medicin e instead of it being SOAKED IN BLOOD.
the rain dripped down my cheeks
the rain dripped down my cheeks and leaked through my stockings
but i didn't care because every one was rushing off around me,
not stopping for the beautiful freezing water that was sinking into
me and making me feel pure so all the impurity which had collapsed
onto me from talking to you was being washed away.
i love the feel of utter blueness running down my back and making me
shiver like the touch of him did. i miss the way cold coffee wanted to
tiptoe down my throat but i wouldn't let it because that would mean
giving into his neglection and that would have just knotted my
tongue in two.
TWO, like the icy satisfaction i get from drifting in and out of your arms
and in and out of your eyes like freezing candles. i
BREATHED for once, into your ash hair and the liquefied smoke that
steamed back into my mouth was beautifully tasteless like your
neck. honey, she's the violetly, the violently, biting wind that calls to you
and bawls its eyes out for you. thankfully your eyes only turned that one
time and i don't think your lips turned with them. so i hold the vibrantly
pink jar up to my lips and SUCK all the air out of it, let it SLIDE down my
throat and WOOSH about in my stomach restlessly, RIPPING my red insides.
i dreamed of kissing you while the water dripped down the bus window.
cool relaxing nights give way
cool relaxing nights give way to burning, suffocating mornings on which
i wake and feel orange sweat on my skin my patchwork of leather and
talcolm powder and white plush which flushes all cold toxins out of my body,
causing freezing trickles of calmness to slide onto my quilt and blankets.
psychotic turnings of the head in gelid heat
are random expressions of the deep oil of morning which greets the streets
and meets my feet with bubbling orange grease and streaks my hair, makes
my skin leak with rosy pearls of sizzling, thick beads of heat; it's all about
the fleeting six am heat which speaks and breathes so close to the skin
that it's left with the pleated beads of misty needs that taste like me.
i can't be sure anymore that the fevered fire
which roars in through my
window does
not have hidden flaws only to be chartred
at night, when the moon
drips in creeks.
LILAC MIDNIGHT? it calms me to my powdered bone while the tranquil
moon sits upon its throne i lift my cold glass of purple wine to my lips.
YOU were sitting in the rusty moonlight as you breathed out some sort
of smoke which couldn't make me choke. oh you could strangle me til
morning ignites but my flight is still upright in my chest. i still breathe.
:D:D
Thanks.
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