[x]

let's live underwater.darling,

i am lost at sea
for i swear you hold the ocean in your eyes
and seagull stars make nests in your hair
please
( drown me now )

this land cannot contain me anymore.

a thousand years.i have loved you for a thousand years
i'll love you for a thousand more

hush now
time will wait for us
breathe slow
darling oh please don't rush

i have loved you for a thousand years
i'll love you for a thousand more

kiss me
take away all the pain
run with me
through the pouring rain

i have loved you for a thousand years
i'll love you for a thousand more

pretty please
hold my hand
i have led you
it's okay
close your eyes
i will lead you

through a thousand years
through a million tears

look at me
hold my gaze
i will promise you
sand and sea
through the days
i have loved you

for a thousand years
i'll love you for a

honor society blueswe are old souls, ancient at seventeen.
we wake, stiff-backed, to the same routine.

we're supposed to be dewy-eyed.
we're supposed to ask questions, we're supposed to cry.
we're supposed to break bones while trying to fly.

we scrape by.

we are honor-roll lovers
we come home to nagging papers,
make study dates,
don't procrastinate

the light has been robbed from us
we no longer see the point
in wasting time trying to please ourselves

there is work to be done,
there are places to go, people to see
[but not now]
we cannot allow time to distract us

i will not invest in you
because i cannot a

sinkingshe's sinking in the music.

try to make sense of her,
i dare you.

make sense of pipes full to bursting,
a rainbow in the night.

( i'm telling you,
she's unstoppable.

i'm telling you,
she's hopelessly lost.)

The Quiet Thoughts of Butterfliesshe says "I'm worried if I breathe
too loud the silence will
swallow me."
I watch her hands press butterfly
wings between the pages.

         does she know that
         I'm the queen of silence?
         my corpse lungs and
         graveyard lips; a decomposing
         tongue lurking behind white-washed
         tombstones.  paint me with sunbeams,

last autumn.willows weep softly
i'm standing alone
the nerve of a daughter who's never left home

the air is like syrup
i cannot breathe in
stuck in the past of grandpa's cigar tin

{ fingered chords
guitar stores
the pitted gut feeling of wanting something more
concave trees
rusted keys
the sad mentality of believing what you see }

i am nothing but the white sky
and the black rainbow
the monochromatic memory of what once was
and what will never be

i am nothing but the crusted leaves
lined in coarse dirt
my feeble attempt to soar through life
and my fears

{ here i am.
here i was.
in my blurred dreams,
in my hazy present,
only flying

conversei brought the rain with me

so that i could protect
you from an umbrella

someoneslender, you say, watching
with a sigh as i slither
onto the slick ground
like a goddamn corpse.

(what am i
going to become?)

skip a meal, exercise, a
little at a time, adding
up, stretches and numb
ers like skinny arms reaching
out to stop the flow of time
itself, multi-colored music, i

cannot be consumed if i
am in control, waves on the
ocean like goodbye sails
unfurled i will sing until
i cry, tears running down
racing away searching for
freedom falling flat on my
fucking face -

heave myself bear the
heft of life itself i am
atlas the ocean runs
down my stomach between my
thighs i
cannot crumble now no only
shake

. we'll burn these bridges together.
and pretend that our words arent singing the ends of our tongues.

laced-up fingernailshello, let's talk about the
broken, splatter our slander
over their coats and shoes and
fingers like pine needles and the
dust that is concealed between never-opened
pages.

wait;

let's not talk because today we
are the broken.
let's not talk about
slitting wrists and running
fingers over bone bleeding
ourselves dry.
let's not talk about life
coming to an end and the
sahara desert sucking it
out of us but no matter how
many times we rip the
thread there are still two
ends and there is still no
end and we still feel
alone.

see,

tears are countless
like the stars
and our people - moses, where
did you go wrong?

and w

what are you waiting for?throw the first punch.
go on

i dare you.

[ i'm already burning in hell ]
gritted hands of bitter earth
grind shriveled petals
into carbon ash

[ are you fighting to save beauty? or destroy it? ]
"humanity." you chuckled.

"what foolish tools of the devil's garden."

spunthere were spider webs in his irises

they functioned as framing for the paradise in his inner brain,
delicately hand-crafted by [glow in the dark] fairies

waxingif everyone were how
i wanted to be, there
would be snow instead of
sunshine; every morning, child
ren[d] would don the faces
of old women and shudder
out of doorways and
back - wrinkled and
worn and sterile and
faint and
cold
in
-side.

so:
stutter down the
streets, legs fashionably
fine and lips fashionably
blue: it's the latest trend
to give yourself away -

to throw yourself
away and i knew a girl, see,
she still lives in the
space between her
fingers, sunlight streams
through when she looks at
her reflection in the mirror -
illuminating her like an
angel from collarbones to
toenails and she, she cowers
ben

dream of defilingicy cold hands creep
over my stony
bony skin, melt
water drips
down where
it should not
be -

you want me
dead, you want me
dead and this is a
crime.
claw your way
through my tender
flesh, feel my
heart's petrified
beating,
stupefied
breathing;

you are hunting and
i am prey and
you are playing and
i am playing
dead

, so there is no
need to try to
kill me, unless you
are intent on destroying
me from the inside
out, from the outside
in. (in each and every
way.)

and you can lie
to yourself as much
as you want, but i
feel the flames in your
gaze and the ice on your
fingers down my legs,
and i
can assure
you

reflectionthe sky is feeling down
your lover's legs; it is blue,
gloomy and glum and having
an off day.

listen to me. we, either we
see what we want to
see, or we see what we
do not want to see,
or we see what there
is to see, and we are
going blind in any case,
must be cataracts or glaucoma
or some other such physical
rational disease.

beat

we are lying in bed
together, you and
i, lying in the grassy
fields enchanted by the
sky. i say, look at the
sky, is it not lonely
today, and you laugh -
honey, you reply, the sky
is not alive and can
only be personified regally
and perfectly, as it really
is.
i run a dew-soaked hand
thr

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the house without a roof.she told me she built
her house without a roof
because she wanted to see the past.

she said that the stars
were death's eyes
and the first time she saw them
she cried herself to sleep
because they were so beautiful.

i asked her why-
why would she do such a thing
and she was quiet.

finally,
she whispered
we have it all wrong,
the darkness is our friend.

we spend the sum of our existences
searching for the words
for the memories
and for the most important courage of all:
to wake up to another day.

but we have not stopped to consider
that our answers lie on our deathbeds.

we will never truly know who we are
until our final

if the moon was a hot air ballooni would be first in line
to purchase a ticket.

i would bring a jar of fireflies
to release into the stars
and scatter moon dust
in the bottoms of my boots
so i would be always be
walking on dreams.

i would sing to the sun
and knit jumpers out of clouds—
each carefully hemmed
with a silver lining
made of a native american's
sterling pearl hair.

after all,
if the moon was a balloon
and the sky was our ocean
i would be the grain of sand
caught between a salmon's gills.

on my journey,
my eyes would be telescopes
and my hands, compasses
as i hear the lone wolf howling to me,
crying out to his ancestors
in the plaintiv

seven minutes.7.
time's hands on my eyes
i swim in a sea of black
guided by instinct

6.
i was only three
when my mother told me that
lives could be taken

5.
the first time i loved
i wore my heart on my cheeks
( he called me rosy )

4.
i left school to write
and serve coffee to truckers
who tipped me in books

3.
i married in rome
and waltzed in barcelona
before i went broke

2.
why we had two kids
i cannot even explain
but they were my words

1.
when i was eighty
my story flew off the press
and i flew with it

0.
death kissed my forehead
and peeled back time's fingertips
"welcome home, my child"

if only, if only.i.
we drove nowhere
and we spoke a language
that nobody understood
underneath a foreign sky
blanketed in the scent of pine.

ii.
you told me
my eyes were like envelopes—
because they were always
opening
closing
fluttering to the sound
of breaking seals
and ink stained fingertips.

iii.
i told you
we should run away
to a new land
with new faces
because
i was enamored
with people i had never encountered
and places i had never gone.

iv.
you laughed at me
and said that
if i didn't spend
so much time with my head
buried in world maps
i would realize
that i was living on one.

v.
i remember
it rained that day
and the tea went cold
but the

last night i buried your promisei.last night
i buried your promise
beneath the rosebush
by my house

my shovel hands
built a grave
in the bitter earth

that promise,
no more than
a hull of a seed now,
showered in my tears
(courtesy of the watering can)
as i willed it to grow
rosebuds
ii.this morning
i beheld no rose—
but a thorn among roses
and oh!
how it drank my blood
and oh!
how it made me feel again

iii.today
i realized that
i do not understand
why we hide our scars—
to me
they represent
every battle cry
and every soul
who died hearing them
iv.tonight
my pinky will cry blood
and i will let it

and once it's done,
i will have

why we cannot sleep at night.i.
we have grown so accustomed
to wearing our masks
and yet
we still wonder why
we feel
so
alone.

ii.
the night sky
is calling my name
and i find that
i cannot close my eyes
because
my corneas are stars
and i'm falling
like coins-
rusted and fading,
forever switching owners
forever out of place

iii.
(sometimes
i think,
loneliness is a disease
and
the world is infected.)

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the writer's manifesto.by ~momo-madness

Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / Emotional

_{i recommend reading this aloud. c:

submitted to "Freedom of Speech" contest for the group #xWritersUtopiax
wish me luck!}

love 1 1

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=QuiEstInLiteris Feb 2, 2012 Professional Writer

JNN from #EliteLiterature here. I really enjoy your work, and I hope to see you in our group soon, but...
There's just one thing that's tweaking my OCD. Baited breath. Probably just a typo, but I'm sure you know that bait is fishing lures and bate is to reduce or diminish. I just always get this mental image of fish breath, which ruins a poetic atmosphere... ._______.

<3 And I am now done picking nits. Beautiful work, beautiful words, love!

~momo-madness Feb 2, 2012

_{It was a typo, so sorry! Changed, so thank you for pointing that out. (:

I appreciate your sweet words, and please thank everyone on your staff for admitting me as a member! I am so honored.
xox}

=QuiEstInLiteris Feb 3, 2012 Professional Writer

<3 No problem! We're pleased to have you.

~momo-madness Feb 7, 2012

_<3

~modestlyvainglorious Jan 30, 2012 Writer

i quit.
i'm leaving while i'm behind.
i can never be this good.
i.. it's... gaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
beautiful
wonderful
powerful
amazing
i can't anymore.
gorgeous <3

~momo-madness Jan 30, 2012

_{aw thank you so so much! and please don't quit :c you have some lovely work yourself. (: xox}

~modestlyvainglorious Jan 30, 2012 Writer

thank you so much!

~momo-madness Feb 1, 2012

_{of course<3}

=back-bones Jan 13, 2012 Student Writer

i like this piece. it reminds me a bit of sylvia plath in places.

~momo-madness Jan 23, 2012

_{that's a wonderful compliment, i love her work. thank you.}

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