Onward, Ever Onward

The description of me does not fit into tiny boxes with word count limits.

[verba-vivere-blog]

I've caught a whisper in a jar. Just a sweet smelling tendril of fantasy lazily floating captive. Light refracts on the glass curves holding the whisper hostage, and it stings my eyes to look at it directly. I long to hold it close, absorbing it into my chest. Let it light me up inside and melt my frosted ignition. But, the whisper just slips languidly around the walls of it's prison. Freed it would leave me hollow. Nothing but an empty jar, like the one I hold now.

[verba-vivere-blog]

I slipped on a broken dream and fell head first into this a delicate, intricate dance of fighting not to love you 

You're my flickering flame reaching out with smoky tendrils to singe the tips of my foolish moth wings

You're the glinting razor tempting a fingertip to graze press down onto your edges slicing me to the bone 

With an ache I push back try to pull my gaze away  keep my hands to myself It's a constant fight against gravity

[verba-vivere-blog]

We got lost here smoke and mirrors impede us with blindness and we willingly succumb because it hurts too much to follow the path out

[verba-vivere-blog]

I sat waiting, watching thoughts languid, creeping lost in miles of mindfuck...

The leaves of thoughts  (caught on terribly cliche metaphoric winds) jitterbug poorly

Absurdity, obscurity misconception of security anything seemingly dirty  - because that's all I really am refuse, rubble a cherry chapstick whore God - what a chore. (always with the [un]intentional rhyme...)

Take it as you will, please? insincere manners oh, the permeating reek of politeness it stinks like civility in here

My thoughts shift to my soul no, actually, my sole foot or fish it really matters not 

Maybe nothing matters? that's the million dollar question and million dollars isn't much nowadays so, it's a terribly cheap question as far as questions go

Lost, lost, lost always lost in thought Is anyone ever found in thought? I never am Always lost, lost, lost 

I'm just sitting, waiting contemplating, rating syncopating, abating and completely hating the fact that I can't stop  slipping rhymes into my thinking times.  

[verba-vivere-blog]

Breaking Beautiful

A beautiful damaged thing Weeping prismatic tears His favorite toy to tinker with Winding through her many gears Propped up inside a nightmare Any light her world lacks Slipping on her sorrows Face spider-webbed with cracks Her soft cries melt the night Sweet melodies of despair Lovingly crafted by harsh hands This broken doll, so fair 

"The ceramics that surround us are designed to return to dust." 

[verba-vivere-blog]

We got lost in the translation. Or, rather, the transfusion. When blood met blood, they combined to make something contrived and dilute. Shaken together we mixed cocktails and metaphors. In doing so, we forgot the strengths that made us such pillars. Now, we slouch in the shade as wallowing and hollow, wilted stems. Which would be okay if we had blossomed. However, our efforts to pollinate didn't bring forth any petals, did they? It just made us backpedal fruitlessly. Wide eyed we now look around and cannot figure out what went wrong. We were never right, always left. Left behind, and shit out of luck. We just couldn't see it until the deed was done. Then, it was too late and we were monochrome disasters with less to show for our efforts than when we started. Hindsight, right? We really messed this one up, hon. Two halves do make a hole, and we're in a whole lot of trouble now, my fine featureless friend. So, buckle up to the nothingness we've created and hold on tight. But, not to me. I am far to faded for that kind of substance.

[verba-vivere-blog]

Whispers brush my skin like fiberglass rubbing me raw, peeling me away layer by layer an agonizingly slow process

I'd rather the truth be shouted and skin me all at once strip back my flesh, rip it off in one swift tug

I want to die quickly in honesty not suffer slowly in lies I want to gush blood into the drain not ooze into the cracks

To live as the wounded

Hurts. 

[verba-vivere-blog]

Broken up, not broken down Tears frozen into a foundation of elevation From the top of icy stares I could see the downfall A jagged and rocky relationship all spiked and splintered ready to grab hold of fragile feelings

I'm glad I didn't slide back down I'm glad I turned and flew away 

[verba-vivere-blog]

conversations have waned and my liver complains ethanol pulls my eyelids low and makes my fingers terribly slow so now, my sweet friends I say goodnight until the sun ascends

Drunken Coco cannot rhyme for shit But who cares? I'm sure you can handle it.

:P 

[verba-vivere-blog]

Low Key #7

She has fed, gorged but there is no fill she still feels the itch the pull of wanting to sink teeth into damp to poke her fingers into secrets to suck tongues, cocks and hearts out of chests Her feral beauty enraptures despite a poison smile prey is easy to find too easy, it's infuriating She wants to chase, snare catch and consume really stretch her legs dig her claws in during take down bite, scratch, fight she wants something difficult Prey that bites her back something of her own kind

[verba-vivere-blog]

Baby, You're Completely Fucked Up.

Your self-hate abusive stylings shredding fingertips with guitar strings snapping live wires while you breath fire laughing through acid tears that sting pouring yourself into everyone's cup leaving your bones dry and dusty, all used up the lies you tell yourself break you apart flies have settled down on your rotting heart you've withered from these indiscretions become tethered to this bleak obsession It's a shame, I say, I crying shame that you've failed, and flailed sunk the ship and bailed losing at your own sick game But, in true masochistic style you'll bear the world with a bloody smile spitting out teeth while you grin such a mess you've gotten yourself in

[verba-vivere-blog]

The corners of my pages are curling from being turned by careless hands My spine is bent, my margins smudged I’ve been cracked so many times I’m fading with each time I’m opened the harsh light oxidizing my papers Yet you keep looking under my covers hoping I have become more well-written

[poetdreamer-blog]

My pen is now only bleeding From being once too often broken The pieces no longer gluing Ink flowing red upon the page Beauty is all others see Not the shadow taken over me Hiding behind these words Few know how little’s left of me. I lay broken upon the page For all the world to see

[verba-vivere-blog]

I’m papyrus thin, friable crumbling under quill and hand blown easily by harsh winds to be melted upon the sea I’ve come unglued at the seams so my pages freely fall the flames beneath me turn me to forgotten ashes the marks of many pens and pounded keys will be lost because I am far from permanent

[thisshowisover-blog]

color me, wood pulped, singing tales of glee upon my gently yellowed pages, feel the metallic clang of my words fill your emptiness and sorrow, lick your fingers and turn to the next chapter, find yourself blackened and the pages greened, as my poison slowly creeps into your veins and corrupts you, destroys you, from within. 

[verba-vivere-blog]

Damn, Patrick... way to show me up on my own poem. ... ..... fuck... did I just get p0wm-ned? (poem-ned?)

edit: the correct term is "pwm'd"!

[verba-vivere-blog]

Pages & Pens

The corners of my pages are curling from being turned by careless hands My spine is bent, my margins smudged I’ve been cracked so many times I’m fading with each time I’m opened the harsh light oxidizing my papers Yet you keep looking under my covers hoping I have become more well-written

My pen is now only bleeding From being once too often broken The pieces no longer gluing Ink flowing red upon the page Beauty is all others see Not the shadow taken over me Hiding behind these words Few know how little’s left of me. I lay broken upon the page For all the world to see

I’m papyrus thin, friable crumbling under quill and hand blown easily by harsh winds to be melted upon the sea I’ve come unglued at the seams so my pages freely fall the flames beneath me turn me to forgotten ashes the marks of many pens and pounded keys will be lost because I am far from permanent

I’m a pen without a page The ink dripping upon the floor The words screamed to the wind I am the pain between the lines the silent scream hidden within The secret anguish lying unseen The shadow concealed from the light I am emptiness, obscured by poetry

____________________________________ a collaboration

myllifeinitalics in italics poetdreamer in plain text

[verba-vivere-blog]

The corners of my pages are curling from being turned by careless hands My spine is bent, my margins smudged I've been cracked so many times I'm fading with each time I'm opened the harsh light oxidizing my papers Yet you keep looking under my covers hoping I have become more well-written

[verba-vivere-blog]

Tricks

You're seeping through me pouring yourself across my skin like melted wax clinging to me bringing me your tricks I do love a trickster

I feel like being disillusioned the dark slants you throw my way are hot breath in needy lungs When you brand me with your desperation I feel completely alive

I am a trickster too a contradiction a back draft to reality I will be smoke through your fingers while your fist grips my hair something to be held close yet completely intangible Each truth these lips deliver will bend your expectations it will sting so sweetly I will bring you rapture in defilement

We're born of the same cloth stained and studded with broken glass souls flying to the tops of the sky while we get rug burns on our knees sweet reputations shattered behind closed doors toeing the lines of ugly to become beautiful beasts

I will show you my tricks if you will show me yours we'll bleed them together with gnashed teeth and the half-moon marks of fingernails ripping deliciously into us

Let's be hideous Let's be heinous Let's be lovely little tricksters

[verba-vivere-blog]

Icicles

Icicles hang from taunt heart-strings brittle now due the deep freeze Frosty fingers plunge into the hollow spaces that ribs hide from the fireplaces No flames here to warm, anyway only emotions empty and astray Ice baths to keep our insides clean coaxing frostbite to sights unseen We're icy now in stare and tongue Frozen in place where the icicles have hung

[verba-vivere-blog]

A Home, Forgotten

My house smells of regret, clean laundry and tears. It is full to the brim with the hushed tones of change. Every wall holds a smile and also a heartbreak. These rooms that were once alive with my life, are now just yellowed walls and grey carpets. A house, forgetting how to be a home.