Category: Poetry

Dirty feet make a dirty soul wither.The oval shape of his headtwisted in the wind.The ways his eyes stare backlike a dead cat.There is emptiness in the skull.Two days previous her lips were pink,now they are turning yellow.Emptiness surrounds the house.The pain reliever wore off.One last time the ringing started.The light above got brighter.She heard

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You were someone I enjoyed. I wanted to be a great part of your life.You taught me little.Today, I want to return the favor.You were a cruel joke.There were things to miss.I was stupid to trust you.Convinced myself you were good for me.I held on too long.My eyes boiled hot from your sting.You abandoned me

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Here, I am waiting,watching and listening,thinking of past days,filled with present longing,hoping for future release.My heart is broken,not to the point of a wilting flower,but the leaves are brown,and the stem is turning black.I could be wrong about this,or of things in my past,maybe a part of me is gone,maybe I am whole but can’t

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He travels toward me in the shape of a hurricane, ripping off my skin, breaking my bones, forcing me to stop the bleeding.His words move at a pace of a tornado,a straight path until it abruptly changes,approaching my weakness at a great speed.He sends a meteor close to where I stand,it knocks me off my

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the number two cheesenot the big bananaand not the little banana eitherall this talkingwill pull closer to themand wanting valuable treasuresthis does not offer anythingto commit to a dancein a hidden networkfind anything of usefor the strangers begto slide down furthershame is uglyand increases with timein each hair growththe stunted not worth muchto walk alone

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Their faces pressed against the glassThis is the precursor to deathI am not afraid of them waitingThe last minutes left of my lifeI almost hear my bones breaking downThere is strength in what remainsMost of my senses are goneThe only one left is sight and soundThe enemy left long agoI looked at the length of

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My favorite color is red.Reminds me of blood.Not surprising, at all, coursing through my veins.Preventing me from dying.Forcing me to breathe again.A case for living and model of survival.

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Assume nothing about us I know what you don’t want to know Deny all you want Spare me your pity It never had to be this way You were the culprit The second in command The follower to prolong the lie I do not feel sorry for you You have the necessary limbs to walk

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One 2 Three 4 Five 6 SevenMany times, I have listened,to the nonsense I didn’t want to hear, making me feel crazy.When I listened to someone else’s voice,you became enraged,asked me, “Who is this you are taking advice from?”I lied. I said, “Frank Longines.” The one who was described as garbage by you.He was really

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I bowed down to you on ce. Took off your shoes. Kissed your dirty toes. Licked the lint from in between. The sour taste in my mouth lingered. I desired to ask you why you are mean. My tongue stayed in place. I didn’t want to lose it yet. Should have been more cynical. Believed

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she was fiery red,hot blooded during the day,boiling over when the moon appeared,nighttime did not cool her down.the swirls of her liquid sauce struck far,seeping onto desert tongues,dripping down throats,finding places to hide behind tiny scrubs.she stuck to legs like colored tape,the kind kids use during school,that share when the teacher looks their way,and they

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There are 24 hours in every day. How many of those hours we are awake depends on us.Some of us open our eyes in the morning.Others sleep up to noon because their schedule is unlike the majority.Few like to wake up before their alarm.How many colors do we see in a given day?There are eight

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I should not be eating myself.I do because of boredom.Maybe out of fear?Procrastination or anxiety or something entirely unknown to me.I have done this for a long time.I know this is wrong.It does not stop me from fulfilling this desire to destroy.These little pieces are a slice of pure nastiness.This kind of eating does not

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