verbs.describe the state you were in when you made me want you.verbs. by nighttimebeautiful
use verbs. vivacious verbs in all the colours I love.
introduce, comfort, analyze, reduce, substitute.
these are verbs.
i know that’s not how verbs work. but listen to me.
you are somniloquous.
you talked in your sleep.
describe me and see how far you get until
you start talking about me in your sleep.
use verbs. weeping verbs that dream when they are said.
the first two words in the definition of “consume” are
share, speak, involve, examine, consume, decapitate.
these are verbs.
describe to me what you were thinking when you said you
wanted to take me somewhere weird like Latvia.
use verbs. rioting verbs that make me fucking hate you.
you were occult to me.
supernatural. a phenomena.
the first two words in the definition of “silence” are
judge, uphold, execute, start, finish, decide, sleep. Leave.
these are verbs.
describe how you felt when you buried me.
self-diagnosis.i take my pulse every half hour or so.self-diagnosis. by nighttimebeautiful
i listen for
30 seconds and multiply
to see if i’m
so maybe nursing school wasn’t the best idea
but at least i know
that if my respirations are less than
10 per minutes i’m
and if i don’t move around in bed
the size of a watermelon on my
and at least i know the difference between the
and i know what kind of
sounds they make when you’re
and at least i can tell the difference
between melanoma and a mole
in a little less than a glance.
and then tell people whether or not
they may be
but when i check my pulse every,
twenty minutes or so
it seems to rise with every second i listen
because i’m afraid that i’m
because what they teach you in
is to never self-diagnose
grasscloth.attic:grasscloth. by nighttimebeautiful
the beautifully frondescent room around you pulses with my heartbeat.
it’s colour is shiny and grave. the attic door, it makes me sit here and think
about all those poems i wrote and the difference between the ones seen
i have a list of things to do as long as the hair on small children.
you have to pay attention to all those books you have
you have to trim the wicks before you light the candles
you have to feed your plants because they are dying
you have to sleep less than you do.
just start with gaining trust and going to bed at a decent time. then it'll all be fine.
but this room. oh god, this room.
it's stirring me crazy with it's foliage and vacancy, like it’s praying for me to
fill it with words. but sometimes things can't happen, attic door.
fires start in other peoples homes but not here,
not here where i need the heat.
you start with one thing and end up with the other,
but maybe these racing, haunting, smothering walls
just needs me home when it
antecedentthe moon imagines these little tear shaped shadows where your collarbone meets your apprehensive neck. prolific slices of remorse slick my body because i know these two or a few things i need won't praise me anymore.antecedent by nighttimebeautiful
describing things may be my second nature but the flowers blooming from the tops of your cheeks will always come first. this unmovable paper lantern skin of yours lays only under the clothes you keep. but the distance from me to you is enough to need your heavy muscles, organs, body more than fifteen minutes ago.
now think about it, how i thought yesterday i'd be able to love you more complexly than today.
enemy safety... and i love how your blood is like a lightning storm fain gentle and mythic
encroached with feet upon sand to print only, glimpse only, skeletons of light
blooming and buried oh! frightens at night; in spectral command the pulse that
quickens to drum through howls of beastly magic oh! fruitless endeavor... mine
only once before, and yours forever; a place that is never safe.
icarushis eyes were made of liquid gold
and hypnotizing like everything
i'm rushing around convincing myself
of how much i don't love him
but always catch myself wondering if
i, in fact, do
there's fragments of me
and there's bits of you
we're just swept glass under
i know deep down i'm not even
close to being happy
but i've always been a fool
we fit like puzzle pieces
but the picture changes
and i'm left breathless
someone so difficult
like all the boys before
i wait and try
i know may never
but hard to give up
when it's all
i think i want
i'm counting the stars
while he's chasing
what happened to the
nights where we just
lay under the moon?
there will be blood
when you leave
and there will be blood
when i try to start
if you just helped
you wouldn't be
so close to the ground
but every time i try to
sew your wings back on
you fly off with what you
there will be
firstYou are what I see when I look in the mirror, every single night. It used to be love- that was what you and I were made up of, our cells fused together. Now, I think the distance has turned us into the same person.
You slip your dirty white v-neck over your head, you eat your microwaved food, you count the tiles on your kitchen floor.
I feed my baby, I throw on a baggy shirt, I wake my husband for work.
Wasn't this supposed to be us?
You smoke your cigarette in the living room, you look for the remote.
I sneak outside, I light my cigarette.
We inhale simultaneously, three thousand miles apart, different worlds.
You yell at the top of your lungs, wanting passion, a night to remember.
I tip-toe inside, careful not to wake my sleeping family, I only want eight solid hours of sleep.
But we are the same person, are we not?
You are on top of a beautiful black haired girl on this night, the alcohol whispers, "This is not the right girl. Who is this girl? Didn't we want another, where did she
fungibledecoding the coda
distracts from the glance
to chance a trance
code inked down her back
snowflakes from fingertips
rest, recoil and draw
the energy she's seen
in the space between
climbing only to fall
more than nothing
less than a whole
blood scattered across the globe
steps sunken into deserts, mountains, and rivers.
who had a touch like mine?
a voice like mine?
I come from a line of warriors, healers,
I come from a people of pain
shown not through my ancestral records
but the palms of my hands
the brown of my eyes.
you strolled in fire
as if in verdant pasture
holding close secrets
flame in your spell
dispelled all madness
you appeared ablaze
who would care to
would not dare to
what was real
what was not
strong - proud
you emerged unscathed
having realized you
my heart stays
in your care
so it abides
from this focused mind
gliding to yours
one third Earth distant
love and reverence
past paths of divergence
to hold in certainty
here and here-forward
1 4 3 eternity
llp - sep2008
revision - feb2011 - dA
aug13/2011 - DLD
paperi cannot sleep
i count a thousand paper cranes
and paper flowers
there's too much time to spare
in the middle of too little time
i wash my hair and clip my nails
i count to three
and stare at you staring back at me
sitting on piles of dirty clothes
making paper cranes
and paper flowers
rachisshe bent, over, spine bowed; kinked:thumb192974744:
to ensure, to see
the ground she walked upon
could support her
long, the rise, a trunk, arms
the sky she longed for
above one risky, gamboling
structure, sound; not crisp
the streets, the tweets
avian songs and flights
so swift, though light-like falling
sweet, smooth; soundless
strong enough to die
she repeats, the bending from
sky, to ground beneath, to sky
UnknownI wouldn't have described you with a word like
fierce unless I actually knew the colour of your
Or perhaps something greater, something
Like a thought
About you about us about the way our legs
Cradle me there, yes there in the crook of
Dear Poetry,I might be dangerously on the verge of being poetic, but-
Sometimes I don't feel me in my own skin.
I am too many breaks between pulses,
& a heart still living in the autumn of 99.
I'm telling stories about a girl.
A soul made of ink & godly metaphors,
too much for a non-homeostatic body.
There were once fireflies in her smile,
alight between the gaps in her teeth.
love letters carved into wrists
she never sent.
She is Porphyria, & you are her lover.