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watching you spin.you're a disco dancing, drama queen with dirty hair and the permanent smell of stale cigarettes. but god, are you beautiful, twisting and dancing under circular lights,
and vomiting when you're done.(acid does some crazy shit)
your hair was once blonde and beautiful like your eyes, but now it's laying in clumps almost everywhere, because you fucking pull out a strand whenever i'm around, i don't know why i do that to you.
but i never really ever offer to leave, either.
there's that one song that i always hear you listening to, it's the same old shit about love and loss and never being able to forget that special someone, i use to get mad at you for giving in to such conforming types of art.
but now i just let you go, because last time i actually made you cry.
"would you rather fly, or read minds?" i told you i'd rather read minds, and know what everyone thinks, because you can fly on a plane anyday, but no one ever thinks the same.
messages.it's twenty degrees outside, and when he breathes into the air, the smoke spells sex.
but not the loving kind, the kind where taking a shower just isn't enough to get the smell of him off of me.
he's all wrapped up into disney movie, magic shit. when i know that he is just some dirty subliminal message, and i'll get sucked in.(but i'll tell myself it's not my fault, because my sub-conscious should be more aware, and i'll pinch myself to make sure i'm sleeping.)
i know that's not right. (anything to keep me asleep)
if and when he holds my hand he squeezes 3 times, and that means "i love you." and i am aware that i should squeeze back 3 times because that is just courteous to do. but for some reason i squeeze once, and that just means, "okay."
(there is this part of me that wishes my subconscious could catch
william.dreams make him vomit.
he has spider-leg fingers and eyes so cold they could stop your heart.
(and they will.)
every night william goes to sleep knowing that someone else is waking up with his only friend, and he wishes he could brush the honey-stained hair from her cheek.
(not the man, who can't even spell love without cheating.)
william dreams at night.
his spider fingers are creeping up the jagged edge of her spine. her skin is the color of milk, and lightly freckled. william keeps her safe, and has made a tiny door, where he keeps her in his heart.
(he wakes up next to an empty pillow, with an empty feeling)
william writes a book in his nightmares.
she is in every chapter. her legs stretch across every page, and taunt him with sex, and things that spiders are not allowed to touch. she holds
her.she is one hundred percent alone, minus him.
she has milk white skin, and jagged bones. her eyes are pale and soft, and could make you surrender under her breath (and they will.)
every night she goes to sleep with a man who touches her, and she feels sick. and she wishes he'd just leave the hair in her face.
(because it's easier to hide tears that way.)
she dreams at night.
her milky skin is spilling over unfamiliar fingers. the freckles on her back match the ones in his eyes, and she feels safe. she offers him her heart, and he closes it into a box.
(she wakes up feeling ninety nine percent alone.)
she's in a nightmare
her name is alice. there is a slight blood stain on the valley where her lips part, and her eyes are two supermassive black stars that can't show anything but hurt. she can't bring herself to look in the broken mirror puddles that are all over the ground.
(and i don't blame her)
she borrows her mother's raincoat because it smells like home. not the homes that are flooded with laundry soap or soft candles burning in the family room, but more like the paint she spilled on the carpet, or the whiskey on her father's breath.
(and sometimes, she swears she can smell her mother's sadness.)
when alice was little she remembers playing freeze tag with her mother. she remembers feeling anxious, and now she feels sick. "if daddy touches you, stay still, and don't make a sound."
bipolar hearts.we use to watch Fight Club together, because she said that it made her feel a little less alone, and i could never reply so i held her in my lap.
and she told me she was kalea's dizzy mind.
and in real life, you would think nothing of anything really, because she watches the birds fly just like you do. the morning rises on the same side of her window, and she can watch the clock tick away hours, just like you.
and she told me she was kalea's spinal cord.
i watched her pick at her fingernails for too long, and always decided i would leave as soon as they started bleeding. her arms are full of scars where she thought she felt something crawling up her skin, only to find she was still alone. i told her i was here, but she turned over(and i can still hear her uneven breathing)
and she told me she was <i>
charlotte.it was halloween and charlotte was dressed as an obnoxious pumpkin, because her mother tries to make her a normal child.
(and charlotte will whisper that normal children smash pumpkins, not wear them.)
when charlotte was seven she decided that she would swim far out into old pine lake, and hold her breath until the colors in her eyes turned purple, like the bruises that slid down her thighs and touched apon her fragile feet.
(and it was then that charlotte realized, that no one would be around to save her, and that just wasn't the point.)
charlotte decides to be called "char" because it sounds like something silent, and distant. when you say a word so many times in a row it just doesn't sound the same anymore.
(because charlotte wasn't the same,anymore.
charlotte's first b
The Day I Met God.I met God one evening.
The funny thing is, i wasn't wanting to find him.
God was smoking.
"Why are you smoking?"
"I'm God Kalea, i'm stressed."
We sat atop a big balcony and watched his creations move.
"They're so beautiful", God was breathing hard.
But I know they aren't. they aren't. they aren't.
How do you tell God that?
"Why do people rape, and murder and steal?"
God's mouth is the shape of a sinking ship
his face carries the wrinkles of one thousand dying souls.
reflections.I watched you destroy
by destroy, i mean explode
and exploding is the easy way out.
I'd rather burst into flames, the heroic way.
i made a puzzle out of our faces
i glued it together, i could never put your eyes together
nothing ever fit there was always a speck of something reflecting in the pupil.
but it was never me.
i'd hold your hand
but you told me holding onto someone was needy
"you hold onto life" i said,
or did you?
i picked up your favorite marble and threw it across the room
i watched you sit there, and stare at it rolling farther and farther away
i watched you let it go
you'd let me go, but no one would have to throw me.
smiles are for happy people
moments are for people worth remembering
puzzles are for people with too much time
reflections are for people who you want to see.
but it was never me.
ashes.the sky is all ashes today, painted black with the burnt ruins with what-used-to-be.
words are all i have left, so i guess i should say them, even if you'll never hear them:
i would've painted the world pink for you, just to make you smile [even though we both know i'd rather it be blue]. i would've jumped off a bridge with you, felt the wind screaming into my skin and fear rushing through my being, just to hold your hand. i would've ripped down all my glass walls if it meant you'd let me in.
we could've drawn a map of the world and then, maybe, we wouldn't feel so lost. but we'd probably screw it up anyway since we're both bad at directions, but hey, it'd be a laugh, right?
and i'd do anything to hear your laugh.
we could've drawn hearts onto the backs of our hands just to match. we could've caught dragonflies in the summer, and i'd tell you maybe they know what happy feels like.
you would've understood.
we could've hidden under the covers during the thunderstorms, and i'd tell
nightmares.i. theres only so much you can say until
lips crack open and words fall short.
he prays that his rough hands and broken thoughts
can get the point across, but
feeble touches never sounded much like love.
ii. he talked of how many girls he fucked,
while you told him how many boys youve loved, and watched as
the numbers were almost the same.
sex and love are completely different. you informed him late one night.
I know. his fingers whispered as they brushed along the curve of your spine, not-quite-lovingly.
iii. the only feeling you become aware of is one of
confusion and murky lightheadedness, the world
spinning and falling in technicolour.
you would call yourself numb, but you cant distinguish
the difference between feeling nothing at all and
(is there even a difference?)
iv. sometimes he would swear that the nighttime was his time, and that
the place he felt most comfortable was the dirty streets behind your apa
wanderlust.00. she was afraid if she held him for too long, shed lose this feeling the rise and collapse of weak lungs, butterflies numbing her brain and tricking her vowels into slurs, hearts flooding and spilling over into messy red and white pools of affection.
01. shes all eyelashes, splintered bones and eager dreams, while hes just newspaper print, rough lips and hopelessness. they met in the turbulent center of a hurricane, swept up in disaster and lost in the redorange flames of another blazing skyline.
02. forever was seven letters too many, three syllables too close to smothering him. words didnt matter to her anyway, shed much rather have his fingers rack her ribcage in the rhythm of could-be verbs and his cumulus eyes lock her into a cloudy state of moving and being, of acting and re-acting, of loving and being loved.
forever was whispered between inches of flesh and heat, between bedsheets and silk.
03. he hates even numbers and speaks in ru
monstersit was summer when we met and
you were standing there with
the most vacant expression on your face.
your baggy clothes hid your body,
and your messy hair hid your eyes,
which i so-badly wanted to see the color of.
you held out your hand and smiled,
telling me your name.
i took your hand and told you mine then
brushed the hair away from your eyes,
finding out they were green.
my favorite color.
you were the one to chase the monsters
away from under my bed,
and after you left they came back.
remember the sun and stars?
i miss seeing them in your eyes.
monsters aren't human.whispering the headlines of last saturday's news, he's rocking back and forth, back and forth to the sound of laughter collecting with the rain water. mornings of splattered paint and scrambled eggs fill his life like he filled so many hearts. saving his last breath for later, he smiles instead. maybe simplicity is what we have yet to learn.
"i'm a monster in my own skin. and monsters aren't human."
sinking ships and shrinking waistlines. she's a mess. all tooth aches and flyaway ribbons of jet black hair. she's the girl with the sharpie markers drawing aimlessly on undamaged skin. in her room are pictures of her failed perfection along with the posters of sought after measurements. she's the girl that was a best friend to someone.
"i'm a monster in my own skin. and monsters aren't human."
empty alleys and broken glass bottles once filled with anger. he's the father with washed out eyes and dead dreams. paycheck to paycheck, bottle to bottle. the eff
'technicolor' isn't a real shade
so stop calling it your favorite
especially since these days
all i see are inbetweens
i've got this brand of blindness
that doesn't let me drown in the blue of your eyes
or taste the honey-coated golden of your skin
all i see is grey.
[and you never were beautiful in black and white.]
you like to talk in what-ifs and maybes
with oversaturated swirls of indifference
but you don't seem to get that it's those things i'm missing
with my eyes slowly falling into these patterns of grayscaled simplicity
my mind's searching for clearer answers in this scrabble board mystery
so as you stumble on eight letters that are begging to be heard
i'll let you have a few of mine:
'u' and 'i' are only vowels
[and they're definitely not in 'l - o - v - e'.]
and i'm not sure if i can decipher what you mean to me
when all i see are the same tired tones and none of the multichromatics.
you used to live in the space between clouds
where you would breathe liquid clar
PenumbraHe sprinkled glitter between the sheets of her bed and said;
Now you can sleep among the stars.
She woke cold, exhaling icy comet trails, and wishing shed reminded him how empty space was; (wishing shed remembered to tell him all she wanted was to sleep among his arms.)
. i'm sorry .
She collected atoms and draped them over his shoulders in pearlescent strands until the shadows of his skin sweated starlight. Her eyelashes brushed against the flesh of his wrist as she shut out the sight of his empty eyes, her lips/mouth/heart kissing the white marble wave hiding the pulse in his arm. (a blistered thumb spanned the ravine, a pile of melted razors at her feet)
She whispered to his veins,
Dear heroes of mine,
be strong a little longer
and tell this to his heart
tell him for me
that i brought him universes
infinity in the infinitesimal
i brought him
everything he has ever been to me.
it isn't better this way
ardor.all I can feel is this pulsing, the infinite beating
inside my brain, under my palms, racing through my veins.
the music mixes with your heart sounds and all I care about is that
its like youre stealing the oxygen from my throat, like were
pressed tight enough that theres not enough air for the two of us,
and Im lost in the sound of your breathing.
(its too cliché to say you take my breath away.)
you burn into me and set my heart on fire, smoldering through layers of
flesh, capillaries and ventricles until you get to the very core, filling it with
fresh ashes and the spark that ignites everything.
the chemistry between us is unexplained and undeniable,
fireworks exploding into shimmers of passion and maybe, (just maybe) love.
you s-s-shake and shine and almost
Im tied up in the feel of your wrists and the curve of your
spine, and how youre ohsowrong but ohsoright
and note to jesus christ: being an
and when the music stops. one.
i tried to dance on the breath of time with you, but
i only ended up tripping.
i would've let you be the rocket if i would've been space.
[space is black, lonely, empty.
rockets are hopeful, beautiful. rockets are goingsomewhere.]
this is the shadow of a memory, the breath of a chance.
we could've spent the rainy days chasing the dreams in your heart.
and maybe, if we had more time, we could've looked into ourselves and thought of ourselves as a garden.
maybe then we would've realized that the weeds are there for a reason.
maybe then you would've believed me when i called you beautiful.
we put veils over the parts of ourselves we wanted to hide.
you breathed waterfalls and holes and explosions.
[as much as you loved beautiful things, you were best at destruction.]
i found comfort in your shadow, but your shadows never were very forgiving. i only managed to get lost, without a co
lightening bolt eyes.he has lightening bolt eyes and one fucking killer smile.
let me introduce you to whom i call "fire-fly."
he has ice white skin and something about the way his hair falls that makes me wish mine would conform to such a beauty.
looking at you for so long makes me feel. Really feel.
he calls them fire-flies but i say lightening bugs.
fire burns hot against his skin, and i can feel the heat in his heart
but lightening bolt eyes can destroy you.
but god, it's so beautiful first, but only at first.
he calls me his "freckled girl" and i call him my heart
and he says that i shine underneath the sun
like it was made for me, and only me
but he has telescope eyes, and those can see to the stars.
he has razor blade hip bones and they stab into me while i dream
lightening bolt eyes and freckles like stars
and in my bed at midnight is the perfect galaxy
and for a second we make one constellation
AndromedaAmongst the darkened skies
Brightened by only starlight
Field & Sea.
Gravity is only an afterthought
Hilltops become ladders into the sky while
Inferior planets stare down upon the Earth
Jealous of such simplicity yet contemplating grandeur.
Keppler only thought of science
Linear, elliptical, movement…
Mythology had no such thoughts
Neptune & Nebulas both inhabit space
Orbiting across the lonely darkness
Probably never worried about mundane things
Questioning their existence
Right now or for all eternity such as us.
Shooting stars make us joyful while
Terminator is an otherworldly spectacle
Unknown to all those hidden in their houses
Various stars await us outside
Waiting to play like we did before
Xenagogue & inviting
Youthful but ancient curiosities.
Zenith induced euphoria continues until daylight…
Transformers: We Came in WarTransformers: We Came in War
Setting: Sometime during the Bay films
Characters: Optimus Prime
We came to this planet because ours was gone.
The quest for power consumed our home. The need for domination destroyed us. Still we live, and yet there is a piece in each of us that has been decimated forever. We will never recover what we have lost.
I look down upon this planet, and I wonder why we try.
It is evident by now that we have lost the capacity for peace. War follows in our wake. We came to retrieve the AllSpark, which has long since been lost, and we are still here. All that came of attempting to revive our planet was the relocation of the war from our planet of death to this planet of life. There is so much life on this planet. All of it we have sworn to protect. This is the promise we have made to them. But the promise would not need to have been made if we had never co
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