May 2013
4 posts
“If I was allowed to choose my way out, preferably
I’d be smitten
My last...”
– Thunderstorm at a Beach House
“I die every time I fuck
Spoon feeding necrophilia
Into the people I care most...”
– “Penthesilea”
Soil, Soil
My feet fall hard on the hardwood floors as I pace around the downstairs of my house. I walk from room to room, making beelines to any reflective surface within ten feet of me. My heart is hitting firmer than my steps, and quicker. I can feel oceans in my eardrums and static in my fingertips. I wonder if I’ll be able to speak or if the second I open up my mouth, it’ll just be my own tell-tale...
“She asked me if it was possible
To love two people at the same time
I said, of...”
– Cheating
April 2013
4 posts
2 tags
“1 Write a love poem about how
Your skin peels off in the sun
About the layer...”
– How To Fall In Love (via poelar)
“(When stars die, they turn into supernovas)
I could only ever watch the...”
– Black Holes (via kiyotes)
5 tags
“I leave my window open in the summer,
And I wake up cold, with dew in my hair...”
– On Being A Landmark
“1
I’ve been writing poems like apologies
I am an atheist with “Only god can...”
– I’m Sorry
March 2013
2 posts
2 tags
“1
we planted the seeds, over
decomposition
but the affect was more...”
– Why Our Garden Failed (via poelar)
3/7/13
So close to creation, I feel like death
(Lucidity is evaporation for
The sheen on my chest)
This procession is possession
I can feel your ghost escape in sighs
My breath leaving in peace with sin
And the holiness between thighs
So close to creation, god is obsolete
And I am the hedonist that lives
Beneath blessed defeat
February 2013
2 posts
The Art of Being a Scarecrow 2/19/13
I
My bones are hollow and I easily go up in flame
I think I’d be a good scarecrow
I’ve mastered the art of watching the things I live for
Fly away
I just wish I wasn’t so standstill when it happened
II
My bones are hollow and I wish I didn’t
Go so easily up in flame, when the sun starts beating down
If the crows don’t come, I’ll rot instead
While the corn rises up out of what’s found
III
My bones...
Claremont Ave (Short Story/Final Draft)
hikikoomori:
Kristen’s house burned down in 2011, and ever since it’s been a solemn watermark on Claremont Avenue. The once light blue paint was now stained and dirty, the roof caved inward—a soggy membrane draped over the charred wood framework. The windows are decorated with warning papers and government documents that act as welcome signs to the few who knew her. They’re unpleasant...
January 2013
3 posts
(Addressing The Subject) 1/29/13 →
poelar:
I know I’m melodramatic, you’ve told me before
Because I’m fresh meat, and the butcher
Keeps pounding on me, tongue and liver
(Why does he do it when I’m already so tender?)
I’m sorry I yelled at you, and cursed
I’m sorry I hurt my throat and that I hurt your pride worse
And I’m sorry the shade of your eyes makes my stomach turn
The sea just always seemed so unforgiving
I know...
How I felt on 1/22/13
kiyotes:
Somewhere between loss and gain
Is self-indulgence
Because I want both, but can’t
Quite condone it.
And I need to suffer enough,
To help me feel alive
But then again, I need to strive
And I need you to be attainable
Because somewhere in the gestures
And attractive lies and
(Truthful) whispers just below a sigh
Of all the things we want to make
Each feel-
Inside each other
And beside...
1/11/13 (haiku)
kiyotes:
sometimes in sunlight
her eyes are every color
blending into me
December 2012
13 posts
12/31/12
kiyotes:
I am lacking sustenance
like diet, off-brand, synthetic
To someone who’s already out of rehab
I am here, only to fill the spaces in-between
a bad habit,
a routine
speculation (I/II/III/IIII) →
I
I don’t really believe in fate,
but circumstance
seems to be egging me on quite a bit
And I used to believe in a god,
now I have theories
about truth, and it’s relativity/absoluteness
II
No, I don’t really believe in
true love, like romcoms you can buy on HBO
with kisses in the rain, and quirky female leads
but I do believe in the rain
and kissing you
and females...
purgatory
kiyotes:
wanting to sink
because the strain is aching
wanting to float
because my lungs are quaking
thermal
kiyotes:
the wood is swelled with summer
and I can’t open the doors
they jam and cling to their frames
I as well, have been expanding
and meandering in thought
giving into other voices and
sucking in the heat of their octaves
And as I broaden
I wonder if at some point
I will no longer be as easy to open
like oak doors during dog days
and what will be locked inside
for evan
kiyotes:
by the pond, and everyone
in our suburban town
is speaking spanish
I feel as fluent as ever
arms streched out and backstroking
with all my clothes on
while you watched from the grass
you said I’m an inch off
from what I’m supposed to do
you said I’m unexpected
I just can’t tell if it’s a compliment
or an insult
or true
Mornings, I don't leave the street 10/14/12
kiyotes:
Straying, animals and people.
And the slow crawling of transportation in enclosed neighborhoods
Not unlike insects, scurrying for shelter in the daylight
With wet pavement from the rain, the night before
Remnants of parted memory, still seeping above ground
Soon to be both unavailable and sought after
As people continue to persist forward in patterns
In which I usually partake
...
Quiet
kiyotes:
Empty air is dew and small inclinations
With residue of working thoughts
While silences drips off your skin
It’s a comfort to a brain in knots
So while I unwind all that I am
Beauty seeps out of pores we cover
Don’t feel the need to move from where the still stands
Because interest comes in things yet discovered
I know those syllables you want to chime
All those stories you...
laundry and my mom's boyfriend
kiyotes:
we never separated the lights from the darks
until he swooped in
like a crow, jim crow
and our melting pot of laundry habits
then came to segregation
and his jokes go over everyone’s head
the delivery is too serious
all I want is to put his whites with my reds
and stop that condescending wheeze
-
but she seems to like how the colors are crisp
and she splurges on the...
muscles (free verse)
kiyotes:
muscles, not the kind that grow on brine docks
but the kind that lay on top of them
seen under skin but over bones
making roads and indents all along your body
moving like how bridges are built
to display a physical history
of your defense
and then in contrast
your vulnerability, a feasible kind
where my fingers can sink into soft flesh
and feel your fine tuning
while we lie
...
White Washed
kiyotes:
I’m being bleached out by the lights
When I first assumed to be bioluminescent
But then by rituals of day and night
Outside forces were the only shine present
And in the dark
I become aware
Of who I am
And how I’m really there
I’m being bleached out by the sun
As I go out and leave myself behind
And when I get my errands done
My individual is hard to find
smothered (free verse)
kiyotes:
the option of people is a smoke I’m surrounded with
a slow addiction of second hand company
and when I get the freedom I consider
it to be fresh air
but it’s something that still
my lungs find hard to adjust to
I consider giving in, and starting the habit as well
at least then, the tar in my lungs would be my own brand
all I know is that I can not keep the way things are now
...
12/2/12
kiyotes:
i
if he was cutting down a tree
severed from a storm
he’d expect me to be green, but I’d snap
with yellow decay
ii
Underneath the carbon
my insides are made of hollow hay
and in the summer,
they tend to go up in flames
"Skylines" (a short story, final drafting)
kiyotes:
[[MORE]]
“A certain darkness is needed to see the stars.” - Osho
The tall grass is camouflaging me in a sea of yellow green, and I am so aware of every insect taking grip on my exposed hair and bare legs. Every tick and mosquito latching on to drain me dry, all the ants trying to get by my enormous size, and the ladybugs and fireflies who swarm around me with the best intentions. I’m not...
