dilated moon

This is my poetry page. California to Arizona. I enjoy astronomy, Marian Hill, and mangos.

[deadangelo]

'your body is a temple' you’re right. my body is a temple, a steeple, a monument to my own creation. but, remember this, next time you try to force me into a longer dress - my body is my temple. it is mine to decorate, mine to desecrate, mine to ruin, mine to adorn with precious things like jewels and makeup and short skirts. my body is a steeple of my own, a shrine to my life, to my beauty, my destructiveness, my love, my hatred. my body, my temple, my steeple, they are all mine. my body is not yours to order around, it is not yours to dictate, it is not yours to decide things for. my skin is not as soft as you may think - it has turned to armor, protecting my bones and my heart. does a knight hide his armor? does he hide his chainmail, his shield, his sword? my legs are chainmail, my chest is my shield, my arms are my swords. i will bear them with pride, and i will not be made to feel guilty to wearing my skin like kevlar. 'your body is a temple' yes. my body is a temple, and it is mine to burn or save as i please.

for the girls who are made to feel ashamed of their own bodies: wear your skin with pride. // t.y. (via deadangelo)

[habitualhippie420]

Everyone has their Alaska Young Who gives you the courage to seek your great perhaps Believe me, solid nights in your bedroom compare nothing to the world seen through her eyes Alaska paints the world with white daisy’s and stories about trips to the zoo with her mother She’ll kiss you and infuse you with cigarettes and watered down novels in piles Flash you her bright green eyes and knowing smile- Alaska is the hurricane through the drizzle of everyone else The pink wine in a room full of ambrosia But you won’t get Alaska Young, because you aren’t meant to The layers between you and her will grow until there is nothing but concrete She’ll mix you up with her laugher because the next minute she’s smoking to die Understand that your Alaska is a deeply unhappy person Who believes in straight and fast You fell in love with the girl who makes you laugh and shows you porn and drinks wine with you You fell in love with the perfect image of this Alaska Unable to see the cracks beneath the surface Everyone has their Alaska- Everyone has someone who is beautiful, but broken And god dammit, she is broken But you- Can’t keep using the future to escape the present You must dig your way out of this Labyrinth of suffering Stop calling it a dream. Call it a plan. Understand that the only way out of this Labyrinth of suffering is to forgive You have to forgive Stop looking for Alaska And start looking to forgive

Alaska is over there; I heard it’s beautiful (via catchingfiremockingjays)

[dilatedmoon]

4. My dad and his new wife were swinging me by my arms as my laughter echoed through the parking garage. It was followed by a pop in my shoulder and a shriek of pain. I sat in the back seat on the way to the emergency room, holding myself, as my father comforted my step mother. 8. I unwrapped my birthday present and it was a note. I got my ears pierced that day. My step mom picked the studs and my mom cried herself to sleep that night. I didn't know why. 14. I was confrontational and stubborn. My step mom convinced me it was my mother who was the issue; she was the devil in this story. I packed my bags and took the guest room in my dad's house. 15. My step mom let me know I was nothing but a guest. 16. My step mom took me to get my prom dress. My mom cried that night. I knew why. 17. I had my first boyfriend. His words were vodka, burning my throat as I swallowed them. My step mom told me to follow it with a chaser. 17. He choked me for the first time. I came home with his hands still imprinted around my neck. "They're just hickeys." She didn't bother to second guess it. 17. I got my first black eye. "It was an accident." It wasn't an accident. Neither was her turning her head to it. 18. I told my dad I was suffocating. I was being tormented. His venom was traveling through my veins and numbing my body. My dad told me I was exaggerating. "Stop being such a girl." 18. He choked me to death. I lost my old, battered soul. I became revived from the cutting of ties from the hands strangling my neck. All three of them were forced to let go. ~dm

[dilatedmoon]

His touch is a glass window. With a lift of each finger, Tracing my protruding hip bones, I see inside him a little more. His tender thoughts; A garden of tulips, forever blooming. But when his last touch is a kiss to say good bye once more, The glass window shatters and breaks my skin As he leaves one last shard on my cheek.

[dilatedmoon]

The first time our paths crossed was brief. It was a brisk December night. The windows were down and the heater was brushing across my rosy cheeks and cold nose. He switched into second gear and glanced to the right. "That's where he's buried." His eyes locked back on the road and we continued driving. It only took another 6 weeks for us to meet again. He denied every attempt of mine to dive deeper into the pools of his eyes; to meet him at the bottom. You hesitated initially, but finally untied yourself from his ankles and allowed him to surface. He caught his breath and found us both, floating beside him. With his first steady breath, he told me he loved me. I said it back before he even finished. The last time we crossed paths was only 2 short weeks after. He watched you wither away from the impending reminder of your mother; A needle with every thought. You lost yourself before you realized he was not ready to lose you. He picked up the addiction. He loses himself more often than not; But in his own passion and infatuation. His words cascade and rinse down my body; trickling slowly down my shoulder blades Creating tsunamis as they hit the floor. When he's driving, he basks in the sunlight. His hand hugs my inner thigh until he has to switch gears, only to return once again. His eyes glisten as they look at me. He smiles, looks back up to the sun visor with a picture of you, and back on the road again. ~dm

[dilatedmoon]

When a boy speaks of a woman's body; How her lack of curves makes her unable to consummate any form of desire I see myself at my kitchen table, the one my family has had for 12 years. I see my father forking out some of his pasta and putting it in my already finished bowl. "Let's hide that ribcage of yours" He laughs to himself and throws back another swig of beer. I swallow back tears and the last bites of pasta. A boy yells authoritatively; Throwing misogynistic terms like a stick to a begging dog. Their heads bow as they obey their classmates, turning any desire into a confirmation of superiority. My dad raises his voice another octave; His face red and pupils dilated. The smell of cheap, watered down beer hits my face just as hard as his fist hits the drywall and leaves a hole in it. "Why is a girl in this math class? It's not a graduation requirement." Words almost as routine as the pledge of allegiance. The boys glance at me as if I'm a foreign exhibit sitting in their classroom Yet they flock over me like starved pigeons over a single piece of bread once the bell signals the end of class. My brother is on the couch with his girlfriend. He orders her to grab him a beer, the coldest one in the fridge. My mother observes. She offers my father a beer too. ~dm

[dilatedmoon]

The way his words leave his pursed lips and wisp around her neck Sends her eyes back, rolling with ease and her spine arching. He speaks a language so smooth but it leaves scratches on her shoulder blades. His loose composition smothers her with deep breaths being shared Down his throat and back to hers. I guess that maybe Poetry is the only way to fuck her when she's gone. ~dm

[dilatedmoon]

My vision is blurry and my thoughts are deviated. I was stuck between a cheap shot of tequila; Rough, distasteful, and lingering in my throat Until I regurgitate it the next morning. Or the last cold beer in the fridge To sip on slowly; to satisfy me, to put me at ease. I open the fridge and I can't see past my troubled thoughts. I close the door and the bottles clank. I stumble between the old rustic houses with sticky floors Filled with boys with empty hearts and full stomachs, belching uncontrollably. Or the endless nights where his hands trace the outlines of the artwork injected in my skin. I return to the refrigerator. I slam down a shot glass and the gold handle of liquor. Forget the glass; I throw the handle back and take a pull. ~dm

[dilatedmoon]

The sanctity of home Has been destroyed by a woman whose words singe my skin Like serpents clinging to infuse my blood with their venom. The laughter that was once so exuberant and lively Is now diminished into nothing but a sadistic woman Reigning off the ignorance of a man blindsided by his manipulated love. This house is not a home. It is a cemetery for my childhood memories that have been tainted And for the man who lost himself.

[yoursummerdreamz]

[dilatedmoon]

I promise to walk beside you If I end up ahead of you, I won't let you drag me behind. Nor will you subdue your desires I promise to let my love diffuse through you Like herbal tea with a hint of lemon. My love will cleanse your striving soul And warm you while the crisp air on our front porch bites your skin. I promise to only have eyes for you; They linger as you walk away. I need not worry about your absence For its only temporary. My eyes may gander but they do not seek. Why would I eat my heart out When it is already full? I promise to wear your kisses as art Tattooed upon my skin. I wear them with pride, injected in me. The most prestigious artist Working on me. ~dm

[dilatedmoon]

Stairs

I count the stairs in fours. I'm uneasy when the stairwell ends before my count is ready to. I lead with my left And I can't seem to function any other way. When I'm with him, my mind goes blank. I can't seem to methodically count the number of times I fall deeper into this black hole when his lips curl As we lock eyes. Every compulsive desire is overridden by the sheer bliss of being taken by the quicksand of his eyes. There's no combination of multiples that will ever satisfy me like the warmth of his lips Finding the dip in my back To send chills down my spine. The only number I care for now Is the number of stairs up to his flat. ~dm

[dilatedmoon]

Sheets

My sheets are no longer crisp The crinkles are mountainous and vast, casting a shadow where we once laid. The smoky air exhaled by the lighting up of your antidote lingers across my mattress; I want to tell you to abandon the kiss of death that you are subjecting yourself to But over my sheets, the hazed air grazes over me and kisses me whenever I'm left with nothing but the thought of you. ~dm

[dilatedmoon]

Dark Roast

The blood in my veins freezes over The stacks of organized thoughts in my head collapse and diffuse Thoughts that were once so pure are now dancing with the devil Waltzing so elegantly, not realizing the maliciousness they are inquiring Things that were once a childhood memory; a nostalgic heaven Are now brewed with bitterness. The absence of the sweetness of you, equilibrating the overly tart roast Makes such a sweet sensation So, so numb. ~dm

[dilatedmoon]

Couldn't be happier with my Valentine's Day present

[dilatedmoon]

I trace every callous, every scar, every muscle.

You joke about playing connect the dots with all your freckles 

But I just want to connect your freckles with mine.

[dilatedmoon]

You were sweet and comfortable.

The words kept flowing. My words were magnetized to you. Your words continued to get lost as I lost myself in my infatuation.

We both hesitated. My legs angled themselves toward the center console as your hands inched toward me.

Inhale. The car is in park. my eyes flicker down to your hands and back up to your eyes. Your eyes are slowly tracing from my eyes down to my lips. Exhale.

Your hand molds around my neck and melts. Warm and smooth. Your eyes are close enough to no longer take two takes of my face.

My eyes find themselves looking down, searching for home.

Searching to be at peace. Our eyes close.

I found it.

~dm