s.m.s. poetry

[smspoetry]

if you read my poems at face value, you're shallow. i write for people who can swim and those who have become the hurricane. my writing is free rein. don't tell me about what land is like if you've refused to get your feet wet and only dare to talk about the sunset.

smspoetry

[smspoetry]

my clanking knees travel this world as a shadow - who i am is always created by someone i'm afraid of.

smspoetry

[smspoetry]

men have an appetite for me but they constantly make me feel like i’m nothing so i’ll never satisfy their hunger. both of us will end up empty and they will never call it a murder suicide.

- smspoetry

[smspoetry]

he said my mouth is way too pretty for the words i choose to say - he tells me that i’m his little crystal ashtray. he doesn’t like to see crazy stuck in my teeth - i’m never the knife and always the sheath.

- smspoetry

[smspoetry]

i have found that my personal evolution tricks people into thinking that they are the ones growing. sweetheart, you're still a moron - your scenery is just different.

smspoetry

[smspoetry]

suddenly i’m relevant when a photo shows the logo of a drink in my hand and then everyone wants to play “can you spot the wedding band?” i played a sold out apology tour to wolves in sheep clothing - people who get off on my self loathing. nosey strangers send me “i thought that you were sober” and if i don’t explain myself they blame it on bipolar because, silly girl, it’s only deemed composure if there’s exposure. unless there’s photo evidence of your evolution you’re asking for persecution because if they aren’t the audience, they simply don’t trust the revolution. show them the scars on your wrist but only without filter - dance for them, be human but still okay while being off kilter. be likable and motivational and please don’t post this poem because it’s way too confrontational. i don’t owe anyone anything - i know it’s hard to believe but i’m done placing my heart on the sleeves of thieves who, with lotion in their hands, stare at my life through a computer screen. sure, say that you'll pray for me but just like you, he's not listening. i finally realized that i control the narrative which is why you don't know shit - it's why i'm doing well but i waited until now in this piece to write it. so, cheers to my old puppeteers and for the first time on my social media in years (and listen closely) this poem IS what the fuck it appears.

smspoetry

[smspoetry]

i press red wine to my lips and suddenly i'm seen as just a battleship with hips that sometimes writes shit like this. they gossip to one another and say "she fell off the wagon again" while placing their hand over their not so evolved holes to cover their grin. but, on a stationary bandwagon is the only place they'll sit. i suppose it's hard to climb and strive when you have no spine and build your house on a below sea level baseline - no wonder these people make fishing their fucking identity.

smspoetry

[smspoetry]

don’t ignore my heart and then lecture me on my liver because liquor isn’t my killer - did you ever consider that maybe you’re the trigger? or does that drink in your hand not taste familiar?

smspoetry

[smspoetry]

i wish i could fuck without feelings and shatter glass ceilings but you'll just find me drinking poison in the name of healing. i can picture a future with anyone who puts their hands in my hair because nowhere is just somewhere not fair cloaked in fake prayer. i don't care if they don't want me and i don't see warning signs - i have no boundaries and i don't believe in crossing lines because there are no guidelines in the confines of the sometimes that you see all the time. their magnetic field is the only reason that i have a moral compass and i don't care if there are three of us in this bed because i will convince myself when my eyes are closed that numbness is the same as oneness and your sick obsession with abundance isn't loveless.

smspoetry

[smspoetry]

mania and street lights do not mix - my naked flesh is pressed against a barely tinted truck window and i know that i am better than this. he wraps his fist in my hair and my chin begins to lift - sending heavy breath prayers to the heavens just to contradict. i turn detriment into poetry and they call it a gift but when you boil it all down it’s just me dying in script. so, i sit in the bathtub and carve a scarlet letter into my skin because without all of this blood i can no longer sin but my chemicals are so fucked that i’m afraid while dying i’ll be wearing a grin.

smspoetry (bipolar disorder / mania / cheating)

[smspoetry]

my mattress is both a canvas and a casket. i am a dying art form.

smspoetry

[smspoetry]

before all of my sexual assaults their mouth forced mine open. i have licked all of my wounds.

smspoetry

[smspoetry]

i have been sober 115 days but it feels like decades. i used to throw up on my desk and spill my guts on the keys - my poetry was me not wasting my disease. there was so much left to be explored - i saw art in the slow blinks where most would just see baseboards.

smspoetry

[smspoetry]

i have nightmares of myself sitting cross legged in a cemetery - i'm visiting you. mom, i'm so sick of seeing metaphors so please stop being stone cold - while there's still time.

smspoetry

[smspoetry]

go ahead and mock me for seeing a shrink - i want to be taller than you.

smspoetry

[smspoetry]

he sits on a pedestal made of women’s backbones but remains spineless.

smspoetry

[smspoetry]

they told me to stop taking my medications because the number on the scale began rising but that’s only because the better i became the more i realized the weight of their toxic words.

smspoetry