beast poetry

beast // 20 // M

[beastpoetry]

Look at the man and think "this is yours

This belongs to you"

Feel your rabbit heart thump against the walls of your chest

"This is mine

This is mine"

Touch his cheeks with golden fingertips

Open his mouth and crawl inside

Make your home in the belly of the whale

His hands are your hands

His heart is your heart

His eyes are your eyes and they beg you to "take me

Take me, please"

Look at the man and think "this is house

This is home

the man is yours by beast

[beastpoetry]

I've never been what you'd call clean, but

For you, baby, I'd be rust and silk

I'd be gunpowder and lace

I'd bite your throat so neat and rough you forget your name

But not mine

Never mine

Baby I can swim like Michael fuckin Phelps, but

I'd drown against you

I'd suck in your skin like hot clear water and give up on breathing to feel your lips

Two boys in a room with no air

In a river with no bottom

Kissing oxygen into glacier lips

And, baby

I'm not good with words, you know, I

Never know what to say when

What I say matters, but

Baby

I wrote this poem for you.

godplease by beast

[beastpoetry]

Crows feet under lopsided eyes Skin tags in stretch marks Dimples on asscheeks, I am a nightmare

In my dreams I am kissing him I am kissing him here, and here, and here I am holding him and I am holding him and I am not letting go

A good man is gentle and god, I am gentle I am lips on cheeks, nose, forehead, chin No longer simply waiting for his mouth to find mine Seeking out skin with steady skin Tender palms pressing against his sides for balance

My hands on his back are a benediction, The slot of my fingers into the divot of his spine a divine justice Where he touches me, the darkness ebbs and fades Light pours in through the cracks The sun is rising

After the flood comes the drought And when I wake I am coughing, spitting I am falling to the floor saying "God help me, I'm so alone. Jesus, fuck, I'm so alone" I am on my knees and praying

"I just want to feel something. I just want to feel something."

Gentleman by beast

[beastpoetry]

1. tell me your hands are cut and i'll heal them with mine watch the scabs and slices on your knuckles disappear and spread over my own they blend in with the scars, marks i don't notice 2. don't talk about the night when the breeze was cool and the bed was too small for us but we fit anyway when your face was inches from mine and the cabin was empty and we stayed still like statues, or  3.  the night when the heat made the air thick and wet and i told you i loved you and you told me how special i was but couldn't say it back  when i slept with my back facing you  and the bed was too big for me 4.  let me hear the smile in your voice when you call me  it makes the absence of mine sweeter i would die for you, honey, but i can't laugh.

honey by beast

[beastpoetry]

i love you wholly, totally tragically with every part of me, wrecked though i am

[beastpoetry]

there is snow outside  (white, clean) mottled with footprints but where we are (hot, insular) the cold can't reach us you are sitting next to me I can feel you (warm, safe) you are inches from me surrounded by friends, we are a joyous still life of youth you wrap my arm around your shoulders (thin, slight) you lean into my side (steady, solid) in this moment, we are a version of ourselves where you said yes where you stayed and we kissed that first time in your room, with the summer heat trapped behind closed windows the moonlight drifting over our hands (threaded, locked) where I held you till sunrise committing to memory the tempo of your breathing (in, out, in, out) where your fingers touched my face where it learned their weight where I call you baby or honey or sweetheart where my thumb rubs the small of your back (gentle, firm) we, a snapshot from another life sit, for some time (close,  calm) until I, not to be outbid move away I cannot be this me (resigned,  alone) until I let you go.

sparrow by beast

[beastpoetry]

Hello, I am looking for Beast, Bast Sorge, maybe? I just wanted to ask if I would be able to share the poem "a wiser hephaestus, a kinder aphrodite." I just wanted to put the poem on my facebook, like a screenshot, a version on a background, something but I don't want to steal the work that isn't mine and I want to give credit in the right way. As an Aphrodite Devotee this poem really spoke to me. Let me know if I found the right person and if this is okay or not? :) Thank you!

You can totally do that! I'm so glad you liked my poem! If you could just put a link to my blog or something with it that would be great.

[punkcryptid]

the sun rises like fire  you say; “bury me no shovels, here your hands will do” i had grown accustomed to you  your winter body to your frostbite love\ there’s a chill in the air  and you’re standing where you want me to dig your grave your unmarked headstone your forgotten face i wore layer after layer to hide from you i shielded myself from  fear, from hurt, from snowflakes the sun rises like summer no-one gets what they want we sit in the hollowed out home i have made for us and i tell you  i want your bitter, frozen days i want your angry, spiteful days i want your winds that seep through my clothes slicing into me until they can nestle in my marrow your cracks in my lips and burn on my skin i want your easy days, your hard days your days spent in bed  windows, eyes, doors closed your days of hide and seek the sun rises like a sun rises like a sun always rises like a new day like a something found.

october 22nd, 2016 by beast (via punkcryptid)

[beastpoetry]

I. My lover lies next to me on a bed of roses and promises me the world, but there are cracks in the creases around his eyes, graceless deposits of pain hidden in his laugh lines, and I love, and I love, and I love him, but I can’t, I can’t, I can’t save him. We are this, and this, and this close to safe, but we can’t reach it, touch it, hold it. II. The cigarette burn on my arm has formed a thick-cut scar, stark against smooth skin, but the satisfaction I felt as I pressed it into me, searching for bone with steady hands, has long since gone, leaving empty and closed and harsh behind in the core of my radius. III. You look, you look, you look again but you cannot find the glimpse of light you saw through the clouds, peeking out and disappearing before you had time to wonder where it came from. There is no sun outside. There are no trees left growing. (IV. There will always be another sunrise. There will always be another forest.)

searching for bone with steady hands by beast

[beastpoetry]

two boys summer night sweat damp skin wearing baggy tank tops hanging off of shoulders, collarbones street lights outside through broken shades fingertips, then lips light, then rough soft, then hard two boys summer night flannel shirts, pick up truck lie down so you can see the stars gentle kisses, gentle hands gentle looks into gentle eyes two boys summer night beer, and friends and campfire kisses eyes meet, hands meet, lips meet in the dark, in the trees bruises two boys summer night christmas lights fan on, distance set nothing changes nothing changes

two boys, summer night by beast

[beastpoetry]

let’s tell ourselves the same old story where you fly, and i don’t. the church bells stopped ringing years ago the sidewalks have all cracked there’s mud in your wheel wells and grime on your windshield lets go back to that old dirt road to the fork to your tires on gravel and your hands full of it how you pushed yourself up off the ground how the blood dripped down from your split lip and fell flat in the dust the same old nightmare the closed door the quiet room the walls moving in where your wings left burning rubber down the highway and your feathers drifted in the midday sun where i tracked you for miles before your trail went cold.

campfire tale by beast

[beastpoetry]

stay by bjs

[beastpoetry]

you catch yourself looking at him the way bees look at flowers, and the way every other broken hearted bastard with no love left to give looks at the last ray of sunshine he can find. you catch yourself and you stop looking and you tell yourself you won't look again. (you look again. you always look again.) the boy lies three feet away from you, and you can hear him breathing, and you can hear him shifting, and you hate yourself. if you reached for him, you would hate yourself even more.  the same way that the acid tries to creep its way up your throat, so do the 'i love you's you try so desperately not to shower over him, swallowing your pain like you've swallowed it for years, like you swallow it every time your chest tries to burn you from the inside out. there is only so much you can do. there is only so much you can take. eventually, the glass will shatter. the door will burst open. the dam will break. are you ready?

but the march goes on by bjs

[beastpoetry]

Fat Girl wears size 48 jeans and does not show her legs. Fat Girl curls her thumbs around her belt loops to hitch them up at least twenty times a day. Fat Girl does not look in the mirror in the bathroom.  Fat Girl does not go to prom. Fat Girl is not asked to go to prom. Fat Girl never expected to go to prom.  Fat Girl knew better.  Fat Boy is not picked for teams in PE. Fat Boy is the reason gym teachers pick the teams. Fat Boy hates three things;  -basketball shorts -sneakers -being watched.  Fat Boy knows. Fat Boy is not stupid. Fat Boy has seen the narrowed eyes, and the whispered words. Fat Boy looks away.  Fat Kid asks a pretty boy to dance and watches him turn red and look away. Fat Kid learns what it feels like when butterflies die inside them. Fat Kid cries themself to sleep thinking about the look on his face when he said 'no'.  Fat Kid does not get love. Fat Kid does not get kisses. Fat Kid waits nineteen years for valentines that never come.  Fat Kid stops waiting.

Fat Kid by bjs

[beastpoetry]

1. nothing comes in pairs. you either sing in the church choir or you scream in the bar basement but you cannot do both, and when there’s mud on your face and blood on your hands, only the street rats will remember your name. 2. even stainless steel boys and granite girls can be broken, and no matter how much armor you strap on, there will always be chinks. you can’t do everything. you can’t save everyone. you will learn this the hard way, because there is no other way. 3. everything comes in pairs. they'll love you when you’re flying high but they also have to love you when they’re feeding you whiskey while you stitch up your wounds, hand you the bottle and thread your needle and tie it off for you because your hands are shaking. that kinda love is hard to come by, and harder to be ready for. that kinda love is rare. 4. you either die young, or alone, and you do not get to choose. this decision has been made for you, by your actions, by your attempts, by your failures and successes. your path was drawn up long ago, written in pen on the treasure map to where you end up, and although you may think it’s up to you, you will soon realize: nothing is. 5. there is a weight on your shoulders a thousand souls thick, and you carry it like you carry the names of everyone you failed, and the burdens of all the loved ones you have lost. (+1. you will save the world, again, and again, and again, and each time that weight will grow lighter, and each day the sun will shine brighter, and when your time comes, whenever it comes, you will be ready, and you will be brave.)

the 5 (+1) hardest things about being a superhero by bjs

[beastpoetry]

v. i spend my days chasing ninety nine cent dreams so that when i smoke cheap cigarettes at your funeral and lie nylon roses on your grave you will remember that you loved me. ii. because i could build bridges out of the slope of your lips and cathedrals out of your curls and because i have never had bones, before i have never had muscles, but iv. you are everything, and every day without you is breaking me, and breaking me, and breaking me, and iii. even though when we met i was dust and when you leave i will be dust, again for now i am substance, and i. why do i love you?

in your arms, at night by bjs

[beastpoetry]

v. i spend my days chasing ninety nine cent dreams so that when i smoke cheap cigarettes at your funeral and lie nylon roses on your grave you will remember that you loved me. ii. because i could build bridges out of the slope of your lips and cathedrals out of your curls and because i have never had bones, before i have never had muscles, but iv. you are everything, and every day without you is breaking me, and breaking me, and breaking me, and iii. even though when we met i was dust and when you leave i will be dust, again for now i am substance, and i. why do i love you?

in your arms, at night by bjs