[x]

judgementif you could see the bulletholes,
the brittle bones,

or if you could see me on a saturday,
with a cigarette between my lips,

a handwritten note clenched
in one fist, that contains
only a single word

goodbye

would you still smile
when you saw me on your porch
sunday morning?

In my bathroom againGod's in my bathroom again,

he's shaving the patches of his
beard and pulling clown-faces
at the soap. Last night

he held me as I lay in a fever,
made little screams, kept
the hot tongues from my face,
the mushrooms from my
spine.

He says his old girlfriend
tried to drink his blood, that
it messed him up
for a while. He says
it's been a long time.

God looks sad, jingling his
teeth at me like loose
change. The clicks of my
heart make me sick;
folding his pyjamas

would be
the kind thing
to do.

Haiku IIIwhite cherry blossoms
melt on frosted window panes -
harbinger of Spring

Honeythief.straw-stitched and hanging
off every word--

violated:

pressing my ears
against your brittle
hives

and smoking you out

AffannatoIf my ribs were weighted keys,
I'd play you an ocean song that tips you
right off the edge of the earth,
and clinging to my last phrase, you'd say
'what a tragedy, what a helpless dreamer,
such a beautiful pair of lungs gone to the dust'.

And night would hold us in that distant desperation,
playing our heartstrings so we couldn't keep up,
no, not with that soulful, off-tempo portrait
of who we could have let each other become.

I'll crawl back to bed on my bare boned knees
and when I wake to the black holes you've burned
into the sheets you and I were 'us' on,
I'll write you a desert song
about how I jumped off the edge of the earth
and yo

Haiku Ika-Unom

the morning mist fades
a golden sun revealed
her eyes kept westward

NautilusI

the rest of my life should be early
mornings; when God is still sleeping.
I should wake up curled in a corner of the sofa,
pearlescent, like the primordial ammonites.

II

I follow you every night-
the hunter shooting at the celestial bull,
shimmering crusts of bread through the dimmest lands of passage.
Suggesting a way home.

Home, or across the ocean,
or everywhere under the moon if,
early mornings, when God still sleeps,
I wake up warm in the corner of the sofa,
and you are not an idea anymore.

III

the rest of my life should be early
mornings; when God is still sleeping.
I should wake up curled in a corner of the sofa,
pearlescent, l

hyperdontiasometimes it feels as if
I have too many milk teeth,
too many parts of me that belong
to a time when I climbed trees to touch the sky
and I swam in sunflowers
and fireflies -
to a time I have long since
painted in sepia tones,
long since pushed
to the back of my mind
with hands so tired
of being filled with splinters
- too many seeds
and not enough light.

there are too many parts of me
that I have placed underneath pillows,
that I have kept behind closed lashes,
that I have slept upon, waiting
for the morning to arrive and them
to be g o n e ,
replaced with coins that I could place
underneath the tongues of the dreams
that I could not fer

My Mouth, a GraveyardI buried my words
under my tongue
& turned my teeth
into tombstones.

Here lies hello,
too shy to be uttered,
just left to wither
while my fingers tapped out
its letters,

& here lies goodbye,
so scared of being alone,
it left the roads between
me and we empty.

Love died the day my
heart started beating,
when it pumped out
too much sense &
not enough courage.

Sorry was found murdered,
its meaning stolen,
the day it would have been
relevant.

I smothered help with my claims
that I didn’t need it,
then I forgot how to breathe
& no one could see it.

My mouth became a cemetery,
& I chewed on petals
to keep the smell away,
but no matter

aphroditeclambering lips tumble over each other like
little deer stumbling into the headlights, where
blushing cupid's bows snap shut at the slightest
whisper of a touch; as summer's broken blossom
whistles into moss, suicidal and free-falling at a
twist of the wind, dripping through honeyed-hands and
trickling down wrists. words nuzzle breath, the air
staved of acoustics that choreograph faces closer; watching as
quivering eyes thrust new-born hope, where
restless hearts knock beneath a web of ribs,
screaming silently as bodies are poured into the
stitches of aphrodite's venomo(us) fly-trap.

The Jailori.

the room smelled of paint and chocolate;
a stain that won’t wash out no matter how vigorously you grate,
no matter how deeply you peel.

ii.

“Mothers never cry when their boys run towards large army tanks, and fishermen never weep when they return home with nothing.” These were my forced whispers in her ear.

iii.

ticking antiques and wooden furnishing,
a land flowing with silk and money.
it was no consolation.
pain still trickled through.

iv.

I told her that I don’t kiss women on the mouth, and by day I left her to her own thoughts. That’s when she finally listened and stopped her c

ZemiThings having to be returned to their transparency:

i.
/ green mist-earth / knit
atmosphere / fathomless
blue-lavender / lights
spun out from light

ii.
are recalcitrance / and you
are convergence

& - a fingernail of summer
- a melting of rain
- a crown of flowers
- a priest of sunsets

(beautiful? I love you, because. Zemi.
Zemi. are you beautiful because I love
you? Zemi? )

iii.
I imagine this is what it's like to breathe sea foam
over the Cliffs of Moher: hydration. absolution.

outgrowing gillssea-cradled urchin
child has a salty heart yearnin'
for a glimpse of mother moon
tiny spiked wunderkind
punk, studded belt
you know life's answers well
shuffling through the seaweed-less halls
missing the ocean swell
tidal waves foaming at the mouth
everyone is laughing now
at the boy born on a boat one sunny afternoon
cause mama loved the sea like lovers love the sheets
landlocked kid is homesick and
sea sure, he's searching for the sea shore
life's a blur for Davy Jones at his locker
capsized by sea-legs on solid ground, he finds his seizures
and he hates his earth mother
he hates her
for falling for the ocean and
how he's rocked by the moon
how he's mesmerized by her glow
her pull on his sea-conceived cells
no
he hates her too
for the puking in the stalls
for the ridicule

ScribblesAnd he hated the way her portrait was painted
on the walls of his mind

so the thoughts would come and go
like little men with suitcases,
rushing through in the flurry of ideas,
in the death and birth of a dream, but they

would always
pass by her picture.

Of BlissKissing daffodils sway,
serenaded by the waver of
gossamer wings;

faces blushing bright
as the sunlight
slips away.

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just in casemaybe we were meant to be dinosaurs,
to claw each other apart until we became extinct or
maybe we were meant to be cannibals,
to feast on each other's flesh until we were satisfied or
maybe-
maybe we just weren't meant to be
anything.

-

today i watched dinosaurs crawl over my ceiling
and today i killed them with the match i lit.

today i ate a shrimp
and i cried afterward
because stomach acid is pH2 and the sea just isn't.

today i ripped up every little piece of your heart you
let me keep and threw it into the wind-
where i'll never find it again.

today i cut my heart out and wrapped it
in a brown paper bag with some string

oregon apple orchardshello xy,
i've been waiting for you but you're not what i expected-
your hair is shorter and your face is darker but i love you all the same,
even though your hands are slightly too small and you don't smell like the soil in my dreams.

we can watch broken birds try to fly or
catch earthworms finding their ways through the dirt or
just hold hands and pretend like no one else exists.
that sounds good to me.

you brush my hair like it's made of gold and i look
at you like there's no one else in the room, and everyone
knows it but us because we are the same-
too sleepy to open our eyes.
too tired of non-sense making no-sense.

you g

taxi cabs and wishing wellsthat september we sat in taxi cabs
and watched the world go by.
it wasn't ever about where we were going
or about the weather-
it was about the drive.

[you sat there with angry red lights
lighting up your crooked nose,
catching every worry-shadow that existed on
your beautiful broken face.

you sat there, with three fingers on my right thigh
just to let me know you were there,
even though really-
you were a million
miles
away.

you told the drivers to let the wind take us
where it wanted us to go, and you
kept a straight face the entire time
while i giggled behind the driver's back.

you read signposts out loud and we spotte

cicily and cinnamonit was the year when the maple leaves seemed to dance like enchanted fairies
and left a trail of crimson and gold wherever they floated-
when your twisted tongue used to taste like cinnamon
and i swallowed everything you said.

it was the year you 'forgot' to invite your mum to dinner and the year
you first told me that actually you didn't want to live in cicily, you wanted
to live in paris but quite frankly-
gargoyles turn me to stone
and paris without love isn't cliched enough for my taste.

it was the year we held hands and then stopped,
it was the year your heart grew tired of mine and
it was the year you dropped the stone that w

but bamarre was just a dreamwhat i most wanted that christmas was a tree house.
but not a tree house-
a you and me house.

you told me you would climb branches and swing from vines
and build me any tree house under the sun so long as
i would marry you in the spring-

but i am impermanence personified and i cannot
commit to commit suicide,
even if it were in a tree house in spring.

-

so pull out your crayons boy
and start colouring in your white white world,
filled with holes and "what if"s.

remind the sun it shines gold, not yellow
and the grass is emerald and not green-
and your eyes are sapphire sapphire sapphire,
and never ever will be blue.

[you used

choices a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z

choose [your words] wisely.

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[x]

cannibalistic city

by ~singmelovesongs, Aug 22, 2012, 7:44:24 PM
Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

it will eat your brain first.
you will wait for your coffee in orderly queues.
you will smile at the fake blonde receptionist at the orthodontist.
you will talk to your neighbor about the serious problem the management has with the cat infestation problem and you will agree to write a bitchy letter if something isn't done soon.

then, it will take your limbs.
your arms and legs will disintegrate into a melange of taxis and buses and metros
and your bike tires will go flat and you won't even notice.
your arms and legs will become so weak that you won't be able to hold yourself up anymore.

it will devour your eyes.
it will suck all the colour out of your retinas and leave technicolour dribbles and not give a shit.
it will lick the creative genius who resides behind your eyeballs dry and spit him out on to the pavement to beg for attention.

it will swallow your tongue.
your sharp-edged blade you used to wield will be blunt and your teeth will become a tripwire.
you will forget how to say what you really mean and instead you will say stupid fucking things like "i am fine" and "isn't the weather awful" and "yes i would love to watch your children while you fuck someone who isn't your wife". maybe not that last part. you will forget how to say that.

the city will relish your lungs.
you will forget how to breathe when there is no pollution to help you and real air will sting like the moment the injection slips into your arm only a thousand times all over.
you will forget how to sigh and hyperventilate and pant. you will just inhale, exhale. like everyone else.

it will take your voice.
this is a songless city filled with muted bluebirds and you will be no exception.
the songs of your past will become meaningless tunes whistled by the wind and ignored.

it will take your fingers your toes your eyelashes your knees your hips
until there is only one piece of you left-
and finally, without you even realizing,
this city will eat your heart.

cannibalistic cityby ~singmelovesongs

Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

inhale exhale

i wrote this when i had some clarity
that has seemed to slip the fuck away

~TheChesherCat Feb 10, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

This is incredible. Incredibly disturbing, yes, but incredible. So vivid and well-written. Wow!

~singmelovesongs Feb 11, 2013

thank you.

~ilyilaice Feb 10, 2013

awesome. disturbing but awesome.

~singmelovesongs Feb 11, 2013

ha, thank you i think

=DailyLitDeviations Feb 9, 2013

Your wonderful literary work has been chosen to be featured by DailyLitDeviations in a news article that can be found here [link]
Be sure to check out the other artists featured and show your support by

ing the News Article.

~vrstringer Aug 24, 2012

GAH! love it.

~singmelovesongs Aug 24, 2012

danke

*dietcocaine Aug 23, 2012 Writer

_{"it will suck all the colour out of you retinas" -- I believe you forgot the r in your.

Amazing imagery.}

~singmelovesongs Aug 23, 2012

thanksss

*dietcocaine Aug 23, 2012 Writer

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