[x]

Of boats and boutsWinter leaking into our phosphate spines
Fingers curled and clawing at sun baked whispers behind our lips
Trying to convey what silence tastes like on parched lungs
Misfortune snapping at our humming bird fingertips
The lost do not wish to be found.

The Bambi syndrome(Dis)regarding logic and sensibility
I like to sit on railway tracks, feeling the vibrations beneath my finger tips
Just beneath the blood vessels and haemoglobin
The whirring of the air being sucked out from my lungs
Chicken is not a game for the faint hearted

She called me reckless, and that scared her
Because I craved the adrenaline to flush out the morphine
I balance on bridges, always teetering
Cheshire cat grins as we run across highways
Darting blurring hues of monochrome grey and black cars
In the dark, only headlights visible
Deer in the headlight

Then we ran to abandoned warehouses
Smashed windows and ate shards of glass
Drowning

Mors AtraDust motes gathered in the corners of her lips
Bruised and rotting her mottled lungs fell apart
The skin of her wrists were smudged with pretty pink roses
And below her dissolving pupils just above the plains of her cheekbones
Were streaks of yellowed pages and posies
And ten days later she fell asleep under a bed of earth and soil

In ruins I sat playing crack the sky with wolvesI haven’t changed since the last time we spoke
At least I don’t think so
Because my knuckles are still rusting over
And I can see you still have those lovely diamond lips

Sometimes I glance over at your cloak and dagger collar bones
Remembering how they would hold galaxies in them
While I rambled on about cabbages and kings
And you’d laugh and call me a child
Even when I wore skirts and dresses and heels for you

I’d still run past you and the stars
Chasing the sun in order to burn out my lungs
So I don’t have to breathe you in
And remember the taste of your synapse vowels

I don’t know why I still talk

Hero ComplexI bartered my soul away
For the boy with wolf eyes
He locked me behind his teeth

He carved snake bites into my lips
And tore apart the gilded edges of my lashes
In an endeavor to uncover some semblance of my siren words

He broke apart my ribs in an attempt
To find my landmine heart
Which held no sound

Rag dollI am the type of girl who hides in forts
Bruised knees drawn up book in hand
Surrounded by cascading towers of paper backs
And a sea of empty tea cups with chipped edges
Folded into a chrysalises of sonnets and haphazard haiku's
Patched upon one another

Ungodly hoursThere is no such thing as accidental haemorrhages
Not when childhood bravado’s are blurred by nicotine and late night shows
Charcoaled lashes and panda pupils we’d sit on rooftops
Night owls caught in a snare of lace and hard liquor

UnknownI'd listen to radio signals
But all I'd hear is chlorine bleached static
That leaves a the bitter taste of Advil in my thoughts
Drugged up in an anaesthetic haze of morphine induced comatose
I'd clench my teeth to stop the florescent vowels
From escaping my insomniac lips
I've chewed them shut and pasted book spines on my ribcage
In an attempt to be something organic and interesting
Because the plain Jane exterior I've laced between my iris's
Is becoming a contradiction of what little sanity I possess

Hocus pocusI want to hollow out my eyes
And hold them in my palms
And see things with a new perspective

Because everything around me seems
To be slipping out of focus
And magic words don’t fix broken wrists

Insert creative title here.sometimes I hate the idea
of talking

I rather eat the autumn
skies crushing cold air between my molars
and hiding shaky hands
between pages of dictionaries
and clickclickclicking sounds of typewriters

you asked me why I wrote poems
on the soles of my shoes
and I told you

it was because I wanted to
imprint myself on the earth
then I can create beauty
even if I am not

A mermaid stole my bonesI want to deteriorate into the ocean and feel the waves
Break over my spine
Because I’ve learnt through trial and error
That holding my breath only makes my heart beat faster

And plain white pills do nothing to soothe
The anxiety sewn deep within my bones
The bitter aftertaste still lingers in the back of my throat
much like the feeling
of her breath in my lungs

Mr. BrightsideI remember last year in September it was a normal Saturday
And my room smelt like beeswax polish and Mr Sheen
And my floor was golden and neat and warm
And the trees outside were naked showing their limbs as their feiry leaves were shedding
And the sky outside was a brilliant blue that was just so clear
And vapour trails streaked across the blue in pretty dust cloud patterns

And it was just a normal day, mum was downstairs cleaning and dad was outside mowing the lawn
And yet everything was humming and there was something amazing about that day
In the way that I felt like I could really breathe and I was part of everything
I was awa

Snow White SyndromeI seem to have forgotten the sound of my own heartbeat
Splitting apart my limbs I've found the source of my insanity
Coiled around veins and arteries
Star dust and a lazy man’s drug
Has put me to sleep under fictitious pretenses
Of forbidden apples and two faced prince charming’s

Joey had a smoke and burned the moon downOne night on a long road trip to Nebraska
The skies opened up and bled onto my pupils
And I the taste of gin burned my throat
As my star strewn spine strained against
The static of the radio blasting from your car stereo
We chased god
Only to find kerosene angels
And glow flies hanging from tree tops

Sic transit gloriaI’ve realised that life is like a kaleidoscope
Different fragments interlocking and interchanging and overlapping
But in the end
They’re all just broken disjointed shards
Haphazard pieces of coloured plastic and blurred retinas

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taste the failureShe wanted to cry
She wanted to shout
She wanted to scream
Until her lungs gave out
She held up her arms
Her scarred bleeding arms
But they didn't see
They didn't want to see
So she gave up
And played her part
She cried herself to sleep at night
And listened to the blade's lullaby
She gave into those cruel voices
That slowly dragged her into madness
She cried
She screamed
She existed
But one day she couldn't take it
And no one expected it
But no one would save her
Save her from herself
So she gave up
And tied a noose around her neck
And kissed goodbye to the world
As she kicked the chair from under her…

Death is only a chapterI feel like I'm slipping away
The floor drifts from beneath my feet
As the world around me spins into darkness
My minds normal chaos
Is replaced with blissful silence
I do not eat
Nor do I sleep
I simply exist
Yesterday I thought
I thought about a dark thought
I thought about drowning myself
And wondered if anyone would care
I dove under the warm waters
And just floated
I stayed under as my chest began to burst
And I sprung back up again
My vision dusted in black
I sighed and got on with my day
Wondering if I had killed myself
Would I be better off?
A little voice in my head replied
"yes"
So I stared into the mirror unt

The truthThe panic it claws at her throat
Her chest rips open in a splurge
Of bright crimson blood
Pale bone protrudes
Painted with veins and tendrils of flesh
She claws at her head
The voices they never cease
The panic encases her shaking form
She whimpers and cries
Her small frame shudders with the sorrow
She cannot breathe and the air is toxic
Death whispers in her ear and its soothing lullaby
Threatens to engulf her
She wants to run to tear the seams apart
To rip herself into tiny pieces just to make them shut up
She wants to see the deep red of her blood stain the dusty floor boards
She wants to scream loud enough that the bu

Home sweet homeNobody knows what truly goes on
Behind those locked doors
Of that paper house
Nobody knows that little girls secrets
She keeps her head down, her hair hides her dull eyes
She tugs her bloodied sleeves down
As her demons within scratch their way out slowly
They don't know about the pain that fills that little house
The arguments and crashing plates
The slamming doors and fragile walls
Nobody suspects her as she claws at her skin desperately
She tries to forget, to run and hide
She picks herself up
To everyone's surprise but only to walk one step closer to her demise
That stupid little house
With its perfect looking exterior

Let me out?Sometimes I want to rip out of my skin
And stare at the bloodied mess
Of protruding white bone
Crimson blood
And pink flesh with sinewy threads of veins
I wonder what it would be like
To die
To cut these fragile strings that bind me
To drown in the ocean
And become one with its cold waters

To toss this mask away into a pit full of fire
To watch my eyes turn to stars
And my fingers to daisies
To run from this house made of spiders web
And walk down this twisted path
Lit by the moons dusted halo

To scratch and claw my way out of my mind
And watch it burn into oblivion
To grab the taunting clock hands
And turn back time
T

Bus Stop BoyHe walks on the grey cracked pavement
And up the hill strewn with those leaves of fire
The wind playfully musses his hair
And he shivers against its tickling fingers
Pulling his coat round his shoulders
His boots crunch against the ground
His breath a simple wisp blending into the crisp winter skies
He walks at a steady pace
His footsteps soothing as they dance to an unheard melody
Music pours from his bone white ear buds
His eyes dazed with sleep the bus stop in view
Pulling his scarf round his neck his gloved hands clumsy
He sits on the red plastic seat
And waits
The wind and leaves dance together creating a whirlwind of br

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Evening child

by ~grew-up-a-screw-up, Feb 21, 2013, 4:52:29 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

We’d sit on porch steps
Insecticide burning our lungs
Awkward and gangly attempting to grow into our limbs
You with freckles dusting your nose and I with a small dot on my cheek
You called it a beauty spot and I said god was too lazy to give me freckles

We were 15 and lust driven amnesiacs
Dissolving our flesh with cheap gin in your tree house
Throwing pebbles at the sky hoping to shatter it
We were an epidemic of the underdog prognosis
Playing encores to an audience of cowards

For some reason we’d always rush across rail way tracks
Metal bars quivering and our broken sneakers stumbling
We were branded in mistakes and embellished in thin silvery scars
Battle scars we’d say laughing because there was nothing else to do

Evening childby ~grew-up-a-screw-up

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

~Harzlek Feb 25, 2013

I am not going to insult you by saying hollow words of praise. This is quite good.

~grew-up-a-screw-up Feb 26, 2013 Student General Artist

Thank you very much.

~Harzlek Feb 26, 2013

Of course.

~chocopie5 Feb 23, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

dang, this is awesome. your imagery is so vivid, original, and at times playful. i like the last line especially, because while it seemed like the subject matter of the poem feels cynical and almost without hope, saying that there was nothing else to do but laugh kind of gives it a hopeful (or at least "hey, i don't care that things suck right now!") tone. well done.

~UndertheShaydeWood Feb 22, 2013

What an extremely vivid description of youth - the imagery so telling and perfect. "Attempting to grow into our limbs..." Very poignant. I guess we are always attempting to grow into something else - never static until old age and decrepitude disable our powers to change. Your reflection on youth has given me pause to reflect on all of the transitions I have experienced in life. Nicely done!

*IllusiveContrast Feb 21, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Love the images and emotions you put over here - cynical and blunt melancholy recalled around something like regret from childhood of urban decay and rebellion to end with acceptance and almost insanity - the two subjects have a bond aside from love due to shared struggle and experiences.

I'm honestly not as poncy as my previous statement suggests. But I do love a good poem.

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Evening child

Evening childby ~grew-up-a-screw-up

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