rubber feelingand you...rubber feeling by breathingglassstars
succubus tongue, thistle jaw,
you break teeth
in, lashes straight rods
fanning outward, forehead drawing
lines to match mine.
gazing, looking for the answer
to whether you feel me
between your lungs somewhere.
i want to grow big in that warm glow
you splash from your pupils
but my eyes grow dim, distant,
paling, bothered by shade, small,
wishing for enough space inside my
cavern walls, wet caves, bat-filled.
the ghosts of another's fingers crest
the notches of your backbone still--
she's here, even when i prove i'm here.
i'm here, begging "look in me"
and find exactly what you're fishing
for; battered girl on tile floor,
imagined bleach stains,
pale blood eyes and damp smell.
you will discover me soon,
understand behind wide-eyed
tenderness i am
weepy, crooked, desperate
for a thing called "love"--
that limp word i carried
in summer like a dead carcass
in my arms--
back before i knew your name.
old oak eyes
before a ne
backwardswe're back in delicate city drinking raspberry lattes like it's summer and nothing ever happened. your mother let you come outside to smell the yellow-colored roses in shop windows and reflect over the glazed smell of baking in the morning. she doesn't know i'm here. we sit on benches and chain smoke virginia slims like pastors' wives.backwards by breathingglassstars
"where've you been?" i ask you.
"busy, i guess. hardly seeing anyone. but look, i'm progressing. i want you to know that."
raspberry, sticky-sweet, drips down our throats. it's been forever, lifetimes almost, since you first turned on me, tried hitting me like i was the reason you were suffering. the flash of your red-flamed face looms in memory. my heartbeats run faster.
"what did they do to you?"
"gave me lots of sedatives. took me into rooms when i got too riled up about something. calmed me down by zonking me out into this half-sleeping state all the time. it worked, i guess. i don't feel so much anymore. nothing gets through. but look, look, i am...
coals die downquite mysterious, i'mcoals die down by breathingglassstars
suddenly driven mad by
the harsh lines of your brow bone
and the shelf of your collarbone.
on wednesdays, i wake up
over you like dead water
sticky with mosquitoes on those
moonless nights when we're
conscious of penetrating darkness,
when our whispers mix and we're
forced into oblivion selected
by celestial cycles. sleep.
so i wander to your eyelids
and let my gaze sweep like full-moon
hands and fall back asleep, lifted
up by the drawing of your breath.
i am growing oldfinding sequences of afternoons where i'mi am growing old by breathingglassstars
fumbling around in a dark gray room
trying to uncover pathways never
opened in me, grown from patches
of organic cells to give me home,
let other people waste me away on
summer sunday, 3 p.m. when nothing's happening.
i try to explore cavities, opening
myself up for light to burn and allow
nostalgia to weep from empty wounds
almost like tears or rain.
and then all the pieces of me
will evaporate cleanly like freckles
lifted from skin after winter shows.
i peel myself from cold tiles
covered in daisies, i remind myself
of the way bodies should work
like machines in the nighttime
and docile animals in the morning
when the sun won't stop for anyone.
we don't remember the passage
of time as each second wastes,
forgotten, another moment gone
as it blooms inside my head and dies,
this action, this moment before the dark
with lights carelessly going out,
has meaning only to me, for
moments leave me powerless, whimpering
butterflieshe thought he was in love with her on a bright september day when the leaves were as red as her hair; every time he looked at them his heart stuttered, and his mouth followed suit.butterflies by aprilwednesday
he was sure he was in love with her the first time he went to her house. she showed him her impressive collection of comic books. then she showed him her even more impressive collection of vintage records. then she smiled, and he forgot how to breathe.
he was almost positive he was in love with her the first time they kissed. her eyes were the color of spring and her lips tasted like sunshine and she giggled when their noses squished against each other.
he wondered whether he was really in love with her the night he proposed. she had laughed and cried and now she was snoring next to him, and he was trying to count the freckles on her nose. when he looked at the ring on her finger his heart started racing.
he knew he wasn't in love with her the day he said 'i do'. she looked too beautiful to be human, and he
smile for meHis eyes were the brightest blue like someone had captured the sky and placed it lovingly in his irises. They drew people in, despite (or perhaps because of) his blank stare. All the nurses adored him. They'd crowd into his room, bringing him toys he never touched and games he never played.smile for me by aprilwednesday
There was one nurse, Laura, who loved him more than any of the others. "I bet," she'd say, "that you have the prettiest smile in the whole world, Eli. Won't you smile for me today?" She'd crouch down next to him, ruffling his hair playfully, but he never smiled, never spoke. He'd just sit there in the corner, staring blankly in front of him, until slowly
oh so slowly
the room emptied.
They all hate you, you know. They despise you. They probably want you dead.
Eli shivered, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Leave me alone," he whispered.
Why? I'm helping you. You like them, don't you? Especially that one. Laura. The voice was venomous. You like her. And you think she likes you.
make a wishi) Her mirror is wrong. It reflects her backwards, the way other people see her; but she really doesn't want to know how other people see her.make a wish by aprilwednesday
ii) There are dead flowers in the vase next to her bed. She picked them one day in an attempt to cheer herself up, but now they're gone and there's nothing to replace them with. So she leaves them there, hoping they make her room seem artistic.
iii) Endings scare her more than anything. When she sees something beautiful she cries, because what's the point in being beautiful when you're just going to disappear? She thinks that nothing matters, and nothing ever will.
stop. breathe. start over.
i) She sits by the open window every night and listens to the stars twinkle.
ii) She catches fireflies in the backyard, just like she did when she was a child. She makes wishes on stars and dandelions and eyelashes, and she plants new flowers. Sometimes, she thinks, beautiful things will just never disappear.
iii) Tomorrow she's going to watch
Project Nine Livesi. bonanza, cheeseburgers in lockers, cupcakes, gorgeousness (willsmith),Project Nine Lives by londonrey
hand-built bird condos, hot chocolate, pinstripe suits, sears, snow doughnuts
ii. endless walks, hot tubs, hyvee, mix cds, paramore, pb balls,
precious photographs, secret secrets, the current
iii. across the universe, bunny hills, headaches, heavy poetry, prs guitars,
rob thomas, sexy curls, sleepless nights, south pole hoodies
iv. barbies, caramel vs, chocolate, coach, macy's, pb waffle sandwiches,
picture frames, purple sweaters, "the cities", usher
v. avoidance, blueberry balloons, childhood, flying cake, long car rides,
new houses, pesky ferrets, the phantom of the opera, whirlpool bathtubs
vi. a little princess, black holes, green monsters, hot topic, loss,
rememberings, sleeping bags, truth or dare, wisconsin dells
vii. biting poetry, blue lips, comfort, missing-them tales, rainy coastlines,
similar pains, sweet notes, tea parties, understandings
viii. back rubs, halo fights, homemade brownies, firsts, lib