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The Sky looks like a Bruisethe sky looks like a bruise no amount of ice will settle so the clouds fawn like mothers over loved children who will grow too tall to remember them and the ocean is pissed. fighting itself for freedom continiously beyond its shore. with each coming tide the rocks whipserThe Sky looks like a Bruise
just a little bit further and the ocean is to oblivious to hear the sneer i and understand that oversight becusae i'm constantly overlooking the only thing i want to see. missing the line that says i miss you in a three page letter back to front from a friend i haven't seen in years, missing the kiss across punctured lips that stings in all the right ways like t
by ~XsilentpartnerX
Therapies Idea of Homea house made of doors and staircasesTherapies Idea of Home
never leading anywhere but to
doors and staircases.
pot holes filling the hallways,
floorboards missing as the doors become
steadily heavier,
steadily lighter, growing away from everything I needed them to be
and here I am
standing in a makeshift box hoping to god you’ll understand what it is
I’m trying to project.
wondering if you’ll understand that we
are of a separate breed and I may
wake one day wanting to kiss the lips of
another face
but you’re still th
by ~XsilentpartnerX
Normal Lifenormal life, it is clearly defined by society asNormal Life
mother father two.five kids a dog perhaps a cat
reality?
mother father two.five kids dog, three cats and an guinea pig two behavioral disorders, three bouts of depression and
a pharmacy in the closet
Normal is clearly defined in the non-existent reality we exist in
fairy tale normal, saving the day and she asks me
will my life ever be normal again?
and I want to tell her no, I want to look into her eyes tired and quivering under the graying skyline, and pr
by ~XsilentpartnerX
Friends stangerssat in my car followed by a line of cars in front of an old friend’s house I could hear the laughter vibrate my windshield wipers that finally worked this time the cackles were laced with liquor, beer,Friends stangers
intoxicating for all new reasons, through all new means so I opened the door as the wind pushed me back in saying get out of here, you don’t belong here you are not one of them but I am so I paced myself, half cocky half insecure up the sloping lawn that we tie dyed on two summers ago…three summers ago and I see her waves and waves of curls tied back on top of her head
by ~XsilentpartnerX
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Brooklyn
- Favourite poet or writer: Andrea Gibson,
- Favourite style of art: Poetry
- Email: abelen411@yahoo.com
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I suppose this is me slowly dying,
smearing myself against you, against the words I write,
leaving little bits like bright red Christmas presents,
moist and smelling like old iron artillery.
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