[x]

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

internalwe had a code, a way of telling the other that our mind wasn't stable that day
'i feel like smashing all the plates in the house again today'
not so secret; not too clever
but it worked
you said it every single day for two weeks, and it was always followed by you tossing your head back to gulp down half a
bottle of rot gut. i told you to stop it, and you tried.
it lasted two days.
then it got worse.
worse, worse, worse. i started to wonder if you were just getting more 'you'.
maybe you were just an inherent fuck-up, and it was hardwired into your dna.
god, you really were more than just unstable.
but you were delicate.
fucking fragile.
god dam this world makes me mad sometimes. everyone is too busy trying to stop
people hurting other people, that they don't notice those hurting
themselves.
i noticed you.
no-one else did though.
no-one ever fucking does.

the man at the ticket counter.the man at the ticket counter told me
he had never sold a one way ticket before
and i said why not
to which he replied,
because people need to believe that
they have someone or something
to come home to

i scoffed at him,
well i guess i have no one
but he just stared at me
with lantern eyes
until by some ungodly urge
my bottom lip trembled
and i spat out the words
no one here cares if i return or not

he was silent as he completed the transaction
but his forehead frowned at me
and his implied pity became unbearable
to the point where
i snatched the ticket from the counter
without so much as a backwards glance
even though his eyes followed m

a siren's song.her ribcage burst into flowers
as her lungs swam to sea
and the world was silent
-like a film set on mute-
as it watched her dance
into her coral grave.

she grinned and laughed
and all you could hear
was the metallic scraping
of her tongue on her teeth
as her coppery laugh
fell into the ocean-
like a penny onto concrete.

her hair was a tangle of seaweed
drenched in brine
and adorned with salt flecks
that caught the sun in waves
crashing along the shoreline
in the treble notes of symphonies.

ensnared in wanderlust,
she ran towards the current
in hopes of finding herself
among the lost.

there
she wore fish-scales
on he

Sky EyesDesert hands tell tales
of a hundred arid summers, but
you are no longer as cloudless as they

(there is a storm
creeping through blue, blue veins).

But tell the sky to keep her sorrow,
that grey cascade blurring against
eyelids and horizons;

and suppress her misbegotten
droplets, seeping into the sodden
ground underfoot—

for there is still sun in your sky eyes.

the anguish of the sky.( look up and get lost )
for the sky is a thief with a pocket full of jewels
that gleam through the holes of his trousers-

and each night he fiddles with his stolen treasure
crudely fashioning constellation crowns for his beloved.

but often times, she disappears
and the sky cries in comets and meteors-
as the thunder rolls around the earth
like the unsaid prayers on his tongue

and you can see it in his planet eyes,
he is nothing when her light is gone
and he stumbles blindly across the galaxies
with black hole corneas and wet eyelashes.

adieu my love!
he cries as dawn kisses the horizon-
but the moon never replies,
too caught

not want, need.i'm clinging to his translucent fingertips and trying to see if i can warm them up enough
to bring some life into them. and i'm pushing away those who are solid and trying to shove
advice and tea and chocolate down my throat thinking that if i can bring you back
everything inside me will stop aching
truth me told, bringing you back will probably make the ache worse.
but i was told once that everyone has a feeling in their chest they can't explain
that defies logic and reason it moves and shrinks and grows its an internal tide
and its controlled my things like the amount of sleep and the way that song sounds
at 3am with shaking fingers and blurry watery eyes.
i was never told how to stop it though
and school seems fucking useless to me now, because i was never taught anything
of any real life use. they dump you in a yard with 300 people, some of which you're
guarenteed to fall in love with and they dont tell you how to stop when they decide
you're not as good as some other girl or how t

dead starshe told her once that her eyes
were like burned out galaxies
the light in them
already dead but fading
fading slowly
and that her pupils
were like black holes
liable to pull
you in and never
never let go.

and all she said was
we are all just dead
dead stars in the end.

stop me if you've heard this one beforei.
there is a man on the corner of my street
who gave me a bottle of bleach
and told me if i drank it, i'd finally feel clean.

but i gave it back to him, and went home to take a shower.

because i am almost happy,
and i do not want to mess that up by
chugging bleach or fingering knives or thinking too much
about that man who turned my insides cold
from inside of his car.

because this has to be happy.
this has to be what happy feels like.
it feels like god gave me a vodka bottle
filled with nature and people and oceans and deserts and seas,
cause see, it feels like i'm drunk on life.

ii.
i have this nervous habit of scratching

helium balloon lungs
i. You write me notes scribbled on sandpaper
and I run them across my face,
scraping away layers of saccharine skin,

ii. Your eyes, made of cookie crumbs,
I'd like to dip them in milk
and watch them melt,
smoking like dry ice,

iii. You churn my childish heart
in circles and in circles
till I slip into cardiac arrest,

iv. I just remembered that time you
wrapped your arms around me like vines
and held me until you couldn't,

v. Oh what I'd give for a pair of
fortune cookie lungs,
inhaling intuition,
exhaling self-fulfilling prophecy,

vi. I've been fishing for horoscopes,
pasting them onto my bedroom walls
and on the backs

i don't understand, but i don't need to.I feel like i don't give you the things that matter
i've always prided myself on my ability to conjure stories and
words and at the drop of a hat, and i've spun countless tales
about things that are out of my control and aches and ghosts
and that time we weren't us.
when it comes to you there's never enough.
never enough of anything; words, time or love.
because nothing is enough to sum this all up, and i feel that
this is the best feeling ever and it would lose something
if i could wrap it up in a sentence or a novel
and do it justice
thats what makes this so special
cause i used to think i understood myself
and that i knew i was all over the place and constantly running
to things i wasn't even sure existed.
but you slow me down to a pace where i can see the outlines
of trees and i can breathe again. i keep reaching to grab your
arms or hands or waist to make sure you're still there
cause i'm terrified you'll disappear.
but you're not.
and i'm not.
you should know that i'm not comfort

dollarstore happy.this happiness feels fragile, like if i hold it too long it will break,
the way some things just do.
a dollarstore happy,
easy,
but temporary.

i like the weight of it on my skin though.
the way the fragile skin over my wrists has healed into soft tapeworms.
the way the sky seems bluer even when its grey.

i can feel my heartbeat in my fingertips.
my heart lives on the tip of my tongue where i keep swallowing it down
in the hope that someday it might stay down,
and i will be able to forget.

i will learn to forget the pulse in my wrists
and unlearn the butterflies that live under my ribcage.
i will call my heart the sea and sail it
instead

confessionalthey say sad girls change their hair color
and forgive their monsters.

i change my morals
and become one.

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.

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

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lay your hands
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my bottomless pocket.i hold all my secrets,
all my thoughts,
all my love,
in a fabric pouch
tattered and frayed at the edges----
just like my soul.

it is hidden among the dancing stars
that never cease to glow;
the hidden valley, picturesque
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or perhaps you decide
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keep holding on.take my hand love, as we sail the seven seas of my tears together. we will glide across the glassy surface that reminds me of the lost girl i was, losing myself in the sweet comfort of grief.

who was i back then? who could i possibly be without you?

the waves crack and fizzle like the natural energy that escaped my body the moment you fell slack. pale and cold were those fingers, no strong warmth emanating from them like i was used to. i still gripped tightly though, too afraid to let go of the last words i left drifting in the air.

i don't even think i said goodbye.

but what good would that have done? strengthened the fact you were leavi

shout your beliefs.my mama used to tell me that if i wanted to say something, i should always raise my hand.

my teachers followed her commands, sweetly preaching how we were to keep our mouths zipped with proper conduct and cotillion at all times. we were reproached for speaking out of turn, shredded to ridicule for stating an opinion in class. as a result, we grew up in an emotion-driven society just to become these fragile structures of model magic, perfectly molded to have no independent thought. our hearts were taught what to love, our brains rewired to a program that matched everyone else.

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the special two.we've reached that point again.

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we attack one another with shards of insults, lies, and curses we know later we will regret. or at least, i will regret. the abuse we dole out is only reciprocated by the loss we feel in our hearts, the gap in which our love used to blossom. do you remember? we used to b

give me your burden.i watch as you struggle up the steep slope of your hard-tasked life, and feel my heart pound violently in your direction as i am whisked into empathy. the beads of sweat that form on your pale forehead reflect the unshed tears i see glimmering in your stoic eyes. you refuse to break down and cry, cry the hardships and sorrows and brutality of your being away.

you can't keep that shield up forever, you know.

we were strangers, once upon a time, thrown into each others' lives by fate and luck. at the time i just saw a blank face and grim expression, then silently assumed: you did not want to get to know me better, you thought you were better

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why we cannot sleep at night.

by ~momo-madness, Aug 10, 2012, 8:35:50 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

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.)

why we cannot sleep at night.by ~momo-madness

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

_{"I think the most common cause of insomnia is simple; it's loneliness."
- Heath Ledger}

~~love 0 0~~

joy 4 4

wow 1 1

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~lostdesertfan Feb 24, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

People are alone because we can never know what one another are thinking. I feel this is a terrible failing in life

~momo-madness Feb 26, 2013

_{i think this is extremely true, but i also value having privacy in my mind. i feel like if everyone possessed the power to read minds, we would have some much bigger issues on hand}

~lostdesertfan Feb 27, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

^{Also true, but having the option to be able to convey completely accurate and truthful emotions or thoughts to people would be amazing :l}

~momo-madness Mar 12, 2013

_{yeah i agree, that would be incredible!}

~lostdesertfan Mar 15, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

^{Ah, well. Maybe in another life.}

~momo-madness Mar 17, 2013

maybe, indeed!

~lostdesertfan Mar 18, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

You never know what could happen :3

Sudden lack of small writing!

~momo-madness Mar 22, 2013

most definitely

(1 Reply)

~arabesque-o Jan 28, 2013 Student Photographer

_{god,
this. <3}

~momo-madness Jan 28, 2013

_{i feel this everyday ♥}

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