[x]

waste.distance is the worst thing ever
and i think
'if these people were closer, everything would
just be so much better'
but then i stop
and remember all the people in my town
who i barely see
and the thought
s
i
n
k
s
to the same place
he sits
he's my bottom
my rock bottom

001 i am a whirlwind of
bruised knees
(purple)

an aching heart
(dark blue)

twisted guts
(red)

&
a regret that could
crumble mountains.
(green-green-green)

UntitledIt is midnight and on a coast somewhere past my typical safe zone, I leave my bones like trails to get back to something at least half-whole. Each breath feels like an icicle, hanging off my lungs like a parasite, feeding itself, consuming itself. I try to tell someone that this is not as painful as it is when one does not deserve it. But who wanders a threatened tide when they seek solace?
i think i felt one of the icicles drop, and melt in the middle of my insides, leaving my stomach not quite warm, but not quite cold. i am lukewarm and wishing that just for once i could be whole, a complete something rather than stuck in this middle ground of almost, but never quite. but i deserve it. i deserve it and that makes it okay i guess.
I think of all the hearts I wanted to caress, the cheeks that touched my temples and the smoke that filled my lungs after they left another's. My feet kick a shell and I feel it break against my skin like a fortune cookie. But tonight the ink has

shrugs and cold chills.its a re-curing nightmare
that you'll come back, and freeze my insides
without even a single sigh or breath
and you'll say effortlessly
"what did you expect from me?"
and i'll stare at the ground, begging
it to open up and swallow me whole
but mumble
" i don't know
i don't know
i don't know "

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

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

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.

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.

unlovenot all self harm comes
in the obvious form of lines up arms or down thighs
of throwing up insides and self worth
into toilet bowls with the sounds
that make you wonder how you're not dead.
she picked at her lips constantly
cracking and splitting
peeling and bleeding
it stung
more than expected
and it bled
more than ever anticipated
even after she's been doing it all day
she drank her tea that was still steaming
still made her hands flinch from the
far too hot porceline
but she parted lips
and felt it force it way down
burning and splitting
her lips and throat
before settling
like molten in her
ash filled stomach
tiny fingers
pinching, squeezing
pulling on skin
making underneath it
burst
and bloom
her blood like water colour
exploding and spreading
and mixing over
thighs and stomachs
no-one thinks to notice
the bruises
they're accidental
right?

sleep sequencesleep doesn't work as a cure or remedy
when 3am leaves you clutching at the dark
clambering for stability in your personal ocean.
and you are quartz so the inside
of your skin is lined with the interior
monologues of vaporized shellfish.
sure, you could have saved them. but how else
could we communicate, if not for this ocean
digesting us softly and churning us into one?
you exhale, or maybe it was a sigh
i cannot tell anymore with your constant
breaking waves and breaking bones.
and you can talk about death in such
elegant phrasings of crescent moons claiming
and guiding lost souls.
but you never were so good at telling me about
your own personal little deaths.
the littlest deaths, the ones that slip
through the spaces between your fingers
when you hold your safety net so close against you
and so tightly. if i can't get that close to you
i'll swing the moon around your shoulders
so that no one can. because nothing else
in the solar system could be so stark
and yet so quieting.
but oh

why would i.i always prided myself on knowing you inside and out, being able to flick through your pages and bookmark my favourite chapters, or try my hardest to forget the ones that almost ended the story early. somewhere though, i lost track of you. you married, had kids, and i think you changed more than i note externally. the modern era of technology is exciting when there are people you can talk to through computer screens and character limits. its fucking alienating when you're not though. i can scroll through your twitter feed and not understand any of it. little inside jokes and almost get it but not really funnies. but i still look for the pictures of the little ones, and how your brother is doing nowadays.
better than me seems to be the current trend.

Browse More Like This

more ▶

More from =ohsparrowsong

336.does it count as a sign
some grand
NOTICE THIS AND PAY ATTENTION
THE UNIVERSE IS TRYING TO HELP YOU
if its something you put there intentionally
and for this exact reason.
and when does divine intervention
become a fucking coincidence?

the city is my witness.there was a fire, in the pits of her stomach, filling her with warmth that wrapped around bones and flourished on her skin like war paint. it made her fight even when the rain was pouring down on her, like a shower of bullets. it was in there when she was sleeping, making sure that she continued to breath and not let anything take her away from the mission, the war that she was going to win.
she had baggage that was heavy, and she was starting to notice it more and more as the years started to change from a trickle to a hurricane force that was threatening to completely destroy her. oceans rising, the flames licking her ribcage, and bones creaking under weights that just kept growing as each month passed.
the flourishes on her skin were becoming darker and less like trophies and more like tiny deaths that she couldn't shake. there were places that were permanently discoloured, angry and sore. the fire gave way to tangled thoughts and a twisted stomach with a constant sinking feeling, a

10.april 10th.
i have lost this battle.
but oh
i am not losing this
mother fucking war.

this is not the time
or the fucking place
to die.

save yourself.i have been crying almost uncontrollably for several days now, and i am torn between love for everything you've
done and hate for the single thing you did. its not like i never saw this coming, i did. but fuck. nothing could ever have
prepared me for this. prepared my chest to be so utterly crushed in an instant. all of a sudden everything was swallowed up
by overwhelming sadness and i wanted so badly to blame you for everything, and just sink into nothingness, or drown it in a
few dozen bottles of anything i could get my hands on.
if you've given up, well so have i.

napowrimoapril 1st
i just sat there
words lodged in my throat
eyes burning with tears that
i wasn't going to let escape
while you broke
into pieces i couldn't fix.
april 2nd
you gave me stained fingertips
the same colour as your belly.
i still dont know if its from
your poorly rolled mentol's
or if its the colour of
the deepest regret
i've ever felt.
april 3rd.
i tried to write this poetically.
with oceans and stars
and metaphors
so large i lose
connection.
but i can't
some things just
aren't poetic.
april 4th.
you're body was
black and blue
but oh god
there was colour.
there was colour.
and colour means life.
right?
even if its clinging on
by its
fingernails.
april 5th.
i think i've broken
in half
two clean
separate parts
one determined to love.
the other begging to die.
april 6th.
'you're not in this alone'
yes.
yes i fucking am.
now go away.
april 7th.
can i please just
curl up
and cry this
all out
let it soak into
the sheets
and even if i
have to burn
everything
i will
cause i want this gon

90.it was always a god damned contest with you.
my bones were charcoal grey and too heavy
well yours were pitch fucking black and unbearably so
i couldn't breathe when someone said that one name
you literally did stop breathing.
i hit you.
you stayed still.
the white traveled even faster
than your hands did
to shove the bloody things
down your fucking throat.
and i blamed myself
and i hate you for that
you unbelievable bastard.

View Gallery

Featured in Groups:

#Shelf-of-Friends
A bookshelf full of friends.

#skinnywords
short poetry love

#paper-forests

Details

Submitted: February 6
Submitted with: Sta.sh Writer

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 11
Favourites: 30 [who?]
Views: 199 (0 today)

[x]

072

by =ohsparrowsong, Feb 6, 2013, 10:47:55 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

_{i ached enough that day
to salt the atlantic ocean
three time over}

072by =ohsparrowsong

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

~TheEmptyChest Apr 14, 2013

This hurts so much, but in that relatable kind of way that makes you grateful. So, thank you. Thank you for writing this.

=ohsparrowsong Apr 15, 2013

_{thank you, dearest}

~TheEmptyChest Apr 15, 2013

You're welcome, sweetie.

~summerday27 Feb 27, 2013 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

Three times over. Music to my ears.

=ohsparrowsong Feb 27, 2013

*hazeltown Feb 27, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

i love the atlantic, oceanic poems you write
full of aching & beautiful thoughts

=ohsparrowsong Feb 27, 2013

~violetense Feb 16, 2013 Student Writer

Painfully familiar.

=ohsparrowsong Feb 16, 2013

~WaKip Feb 15, 2013 Writer

I may never understand why I find this piece so beautiful, I just kind of do. Lovely.

More from =ohsparrowsong

Featured in Groups:

Details

Statistics

072

072by =ohsparrowsong

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style