[x]

by association.don't shoot the messenger
she told herself
but her aim was unsteady
and the wind blew her off target
they were all rotten anyway.

darkness.he stumbled across a room in the back of her house
crammed full of paintings
some small
others reaching the ceiling
all black
or dark reds and blues and purples
she froze up when he asked her
what they were
if they meant anything
they meant everything
and they scared her
she would paint them in a frenzy
manic
and shove it in the back room
lock the door.
she was trying to figure out
what death looked like
its form
shape
and trap it.
lock it away
somehow,

drift.it was dark
and i was struggling
with an angry ocean
in head
and heart
you stumble home
sink beneath the cotton blues
and stop the waves
from breaking
quite so much
enough to
sleep

stinging.lover asked me about the purple
that curved and stretched along
my legs and thighs
bold and bruised against my skin.
i told him
'they're stretch marks'
he ran his fingers along them
and felt them raised
and smooth
but some were rough
and still sore to the touch.
but he didn't question.
just kissed them
and told me he loved me.
he doesnt need to know that i tore myself open
over and over trying to find
this feeling and tear it out of me
he doesn't need to know that.

Untitledsorry, ma'am, but you're carrying too much luggage
that's not possible. its only 5kg and the limit is 20kg.
emotional luggage, ma'am.
huh?
you're allowed two ghosts per flight
and you have at least five.
oh. sorry. i'll work on that.

039i will write about you until i run out of
words in my blood
or breath in my lungs.
whichever comes first.

don't go if you've got more to sayand last night i saw you, the real you
the you that i had buried under layers and layers of
blues and greens
from trying to find something
that was almost you
but not quite.
and i didn't cry
i didn't shatter into a million stupid pieces
i froze
like you were a car with high beams
and i was a scared little deer.
cause i hadn't seen past this you i made up
for so fucking long.
but i remembered
that you didn't catch my attention at first.
but when you did.
my god
i couldn't look away.
and i wish i had have stayed
with my eyes closed.
cause i was so proud of myself
for tearing my heart
away from you
and out of underneath your skin
or between your fingers

simple math.it was the strangest thing to be complaining about, not liking
feeling -this- human. feeling so fucking vulnerable and exposed, and not
understanding anything that is going on but knowing that its actually
just chemicals that we’ve given names too
too human
too exposed
and far too fucking weak to handle the tidal wave of shitty chemical reactions you
bring with you.

012so you drink alone in your room
trying to make it all
go away.
but your double vision and double filled lungs
are making the ghosts
in your chest restless
and oh god your co-ordination is shot and you're
just kicking the air around and next to demons.
never connecting.

0012.- talk to cats or trees
and empty your bucket
full of emotions
on the ground into the roots
and lets something become of it
that isn't a bruise, or a tear in your skin
or a lovers headache.

awake from my dream state.it was a leap of faith
but i wish someone had pushed me
so i had someone to blame

dissipation
sometimes she wanted to tear the skin off her arms and dip the bared bones under water
and see if they still swelled and grew into logs rather than the twigs she craved.
it was as if there were little sandbags under the surface and they were delicately lined
and the water would sink inside them and grow and bulge and drag her under
(sometimes she does, sometimes she considers herself the bird in the bush:
dewy feathers doing nothing but chilling her to the bone; and she floats, head hung,
waiting for the currents to make her less than the nothing she considers herself to be)
but the weight is invisible, and despite its insistence
and the grey she feels all over, her feet won’t reach the bottom;
her toes are the only thing losing feeling--
she painted them red. cherry red like summer’s lovechild even though winter
had already found its home beneath her bed; red and quiet and refined like
the paper women she’d seen in magazines. she wore spring blouses with flowe

003its easier to say
"i'm fine, just tired"
than explain the water rising
when really they just asked out of politeness
and don't -actually- care.

pressure.she was cracked in places only she could feel, and where the blood could only be tasted, and not seen.
her lips, fingertips and inside her chest. she learned that there are certain body parts prone to being cut or bruised, and her white laced knees could attest to that. but there comes a time when cutting your leg on the coffee table or pinching your stomach with your belt buckle, isn't an accident anymore. its something more, and you know it is. but you can go so long without ever admitting it to yourself, and even longer for anyone else.

32you were gone before it even sank in that you were really there.
habit is the worst thing, cause it made me so blind to the fact that you could
just as easily be snatched away from me.
i should have hugged you at least four more times
i've spent the better half of a year being your definition of evil and insane
at the same time. i've known better than everything i've done, but done it
anyway. god knows i've repeated the same tedious/dangerous/stupid
actions over and over wanting/expecting different results.
you wouldn't be proud of me for anything anymore.
but i'm still mad at you, i'm sure of it. if you waded through the
rising tides, or peeled away my blue like old house paint, you'd find something
that screams how you broke everything inside me. and how you were one single event
that taught me that just cause something ends, that doesn't mean its over.
and that i will waste every single change given to me.
the only thing you ever told me that i listened to, was to rest occasionally.

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031.

by ~ohsparrowsong, Jan 30, 2013, 5:53:46 AM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

_{Things to do;
1) admire the entire city from the rooftop
2) smoke a whole packet of dunhill reds.
3) Jump.}

031.by ~ohsparrowsong

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

~NoriMori Feb 16, 2013

That would be a very literary and poetic way to go.

~ohsparrowsong Feb 16, 2013

~NoriMori Feb 16, 2013

!travelgirlxx Jan 31, 2013

Let it simmer, then write some kick-ass poetry from these images.

~ohsparrowsong Jan 31, 2013

~psithurisms Jan 30, 2013 Writer

^{dunhill lights are nice *feels like such a terrible person for saying that*
blue/teal pack >.>

don't jump
just let it simmer inside}

~ohsparrowsong Jan 31, 2013

_{trying, dear.}

~gogocherryrose Jan 30, 2013

one of two things: suicide or trampole-ing while buzzing on dunhill reds!

~ohsparrowsong Jan 31, 2013

_{lets take the lighter option!}

~gogocherryrose Feb 1, 2013

agreed

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