[x]

Therapists, I don't like their taste.i.
in 7th grade
i didn’t know depression
until she told me her name,
carving forever scratches
along my limbs like
little love notes on the bark
of a tree.

she stole my rings
and left me hollow.

ii.
i had only ever met anxiety
in passing, until one day
he handed me power and told me
to hurt someone else with it.

iii.
inexperienced,
with an uncontrollable
quivering in my fingers,
he whispered, “ to survive,
you must learn quickly.”
as i shoved the bevel of a needle
into a strangers arm.

iv.
so, if a therapist
could talk away my scars
like iodine disinfects,
guide the ships
through

Please,don’t make me
fall in love with you,
again.

I don’t want to remember you,
those Sunday morning
wake-me-up kisses,
or the way your
lost boy eyes always,
always found a way
to find mine.

There are only so many times
I can allow you to slice
through my scar tissue
before I finally

fall
ap art.

lion boyi knew a boy with
eyes of gold & fire
in his footsteps.

he would roar to the
stars, declaring himself
as fearless as a king
& as regal as a lion.

"ad lucem,"
he would announce
every night when leo
would coax the virgin
from her radiant
castle.

five times around the
sun & loyal fangs bared
to shield his kingdom,
my lion boy
dances with flames.

I Am FlawedFrom body to soul and in between,
They blotch the parchment that is me;
I know of worse flaws I have seen,
But surely
I am flawed.

I sometimes lose my temper,
Use my mouth before my mind;
I ponder things I could do better,
And regret them for a time.

I can be harsh, I can be blunt,
I tend to hide my thoughts;
But this is far from what I want:
To be in someone's heart.

Comparisons are hard to make
Since we are all unique.
But half the time my words are fake;
The real me is a freak.

Regardless,
These flaws define me, describe me—
They make me what I am.
In that light, I'm proud to say that
I
am
flawed.

Confessionsthere’s a lot I never told you

one. I have a habit of lying, about
the simple things (like, yes I
forgot to remember and I swear by
soul mates and I’m in love
with your susurrus voice
and no, I’m really doing fine).

It was not an act of infidelity because
I believed it, too.

two. I’m infatuated with the concept
that I am more or less fictional, the
delusive beauty a million men will
dedicate novels to: I am fragile,

a dust angel sent to save the world
from commonalities and
myself.

three. Since I’m not allowed
to remember your name

I will commemorate you
in acts of escapism,
killing off the pieces
o

ExposureThe wind invites itself
from underneath my door,
it reaches under
it pulls open-
the leaves come in.
A bird hops over the
threshold and tilts its
head in quick, informative
motions.

The rains follow in
after the wind and
now I have to reason with
both the animals and the storm.

Those abandoned wooden barns
with one wall collapsed,
overgrown with vines and ferns.
The epitome of giving in.

I close the door
and all the windows,
leave it to the glass
to challenge the rain.

That little bird,
somewhere in here,
is searching for where
the wind has gone.

Thunder knocks
once, then
twice.

I imagine lying
on the hood of a car
beneath the desert su

i shouldn't write when i'm stonedpeople say you're
an asshole. but that's
okay because people say
i'm an asshole, too. maybe
that's one of the reasons
you love me and i love you.

but i think more than that,
i think the biggest reason
we're drawn to each other is
that neither of us fit anywhere.
we are both lonely. and we are sad.
but we don't care, and we love it.

we are good at being
alone. we are good at
being together. if i could,
i would paint a picture
of two souls tethered close
but sitting in separate rooms
and i would point to it. then you
would understand why we will
never come apart.

String TheoryThis is determination,
existential numbness in which
I drown from the paranoid spittle
of that dreary-eyed girl
lost in the mirror.

Jesus,
what would you do

if you saw me now, all grown in
to my predetermined curves and
the nihilistic fabrications knotted in my skin.

Maybe you still want to be
a brain surgeon. Maybe you still
weep when you’re happy and stop
when you’re lonely, drooping over like
the puppet no one remembered. Maybe
you still smoke like it’s a defiance, and love
like it’s a war; maybe time preserved you
like a corpse in formaldehyde, and maybe

you still think of me,
too.

ExperimentalistShe always said she was
An experimentalist.
I knew otherwise.
This girl was raised to
Believe that the ability of
Counting the bones in your
Rib cage is beautiful.
Sixteen years old
With sand in her blood
And shoulder blades
As sharp as knives
As long as wings.
That day I knew
Her smiles were painful
And her laughs were just
Recorded in her throat
From so much practice
In a life that was once
So happy.

A little punk rocker with a gift for singing songsGirl with the rock and roll smirk curled behind her teeth
Burning her insides for fun because there wasn’t much else to do
Aside from skipping stones across car parks
And sipping the last dregs of forbidden liquor
Behind broken trees to keep up the act of normality

Late at night when the moon is asleep
She lies on dismantled bed frames
Counting stars because lambs are too often sent to the slaughter
Lucky star heartbeats and posy veins
Hides broken windows behind her pupils

Ceiling lights tracing patterns on her cheekbones
As late night contemplation's lead back to Rome
Atlas limbs curled into her ribs
With a sense of obligation she

this habiti have this habit of thinking without thinking.

my mind will be walking down a road
between cities

while i am plugging away at the factory,
while i am putting groceries away.

if someone were to ask me what i was thinking,
i wouldn’t know what to say.

i would have to wait hours,
long after they’ve gone,

until my mind comes through the door,
tracking all manner of shit onto the floor,

and explains himself.

Sea sonnet for the girl with ocean eyesShe was southern Californian storms
On a good day
When the skies nursed the shoreline like a wound
And the rain tasted like two scoops of mint chip ice cream

She held the nebula in her palms
And poured it out onto the sidewalk
So that the gutters would have something
To talk about at night

She swallowed the ocean
And held it in her eyes
deep pools
Of mountain rock blue straining against the sky
The bluest eyes I’d ever seen
Sparrow girl with the breathless wings

Embellished in vinyl’s and cassette tapes
Gramophone gilded lashes and half-moon wrists made up
Paper tapestries taped together with Shakespeare and Green

Sunday mor

AdultsI envy those people
who leave home
at eighteen
and live like twenty-five year olds,
looking out for themselves
like folks did in the good ol’ days,
drinking whiskey straight,
driving all night with no limits,
loving and fucking without apology,
never having to remind someone
that they’re old enough—
Goddamnit, they’re old enough
and if they’re not cut loose
they’ll suffocate to death

without ever having breathed
on their own.

Alaska is hiding behind her eyesA girl caught up in the same game
Where circus tricks and trapeze artists
Are nothing compared to the burning of lungs
Where insomnia stains the people’s smiles
In a pale wash of sea foam angst bottled up and thrown
Into the horizon where the sky meets the earth
In a disjointed seam

She had hurricane rage eyes
And wishbone sleeves pulled tightly across her chest
To suppress her Medusa heart from cracking
The stars open and drinking their flames

Ocean funeral where Chaconne
Is played to sirens and sea urchins
Coiled beneath the oily depths of seascapes
Where her kite string spines push against the thin membrane
Of split grin skie

On the road again searching for lost thingsLake bones carved into words
The slow baked Texas heat seeping into
Galaxy veins and Saturn ring irises
Like cross hatched road maps
Leading to lost cities gilded in gold
The skies nursing oil spills like a wound

Your cat eye palpitations lingering
Behind drowsy eyelids
Where childhood adventures of never growing up
Spark between neurons and sneakers pounding
On old dirt tracks
Boyish dreams of Milky Way heroes
Make up the constellations of your breathing

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Tug of WarStruggling with myself one night
I happened upon a wondrous sight
It touched my soul with blinding light
And sent my despair off in fright

To you it might seem rather plain
For some it's just a silly game
Yet in a soul of perpetual rain
It kindled my hope all the same

A tug of war I clearly saw
Twixt demon and angel in the raw
Causing me to gape in mortal awe
They fought over a rope of straw

The demon's name was despair
And his allies gathered there
To end the angel without a prayer
Yet none approached the seraph fair

In his eyes I saw his name
Hope rang out in soft refrain
The devils could not ever lay claim
While hope's light maintained

The Road of LifeDown a long and winding road
I marched along sans care or load
At a leisurely pace I strode
Not knowing where I'd go

Passing by old friend and foe
While sharp winds of change would blow
Sometimes it made my passage slow
But I continued on unbowed

Once at the journey's end I found
While looking back without a sound
A wonderful life had gone down
And now they lay me in the ground

Stride on through dark days and light
Never fear a righteous fight
Be known for your character's might
So all recall your well-lived life.

League Champion MinisLeona

Flashing Light
A Deadly Stun
All While Garbed
In Holy Sun

Diana

Curve Thy Blade
Black Out The Sun
Moonlight's Fury
Heresy Lives On

Brand

Blazing Bright
The Flames Will Fly
One Landed Stun
And Then You Die

My Heart Is On The FloorThis one's a bit more personal
Like all the ones before
Here's my heart trying to speak
While I let it have the floor

Love is pain I hear you say
And often I'd agree
At least until love strikes again
Placing her hold on me

When that happens you will know
My sappy side will start
To fill the world and my page
With sentimental art

I know it hurts me sometimes
Just like it has before
But if I never feel the pain
Would I really search for more?

Many times my heart said no
But then I changed my ways
Spurred on by the loneliness
And memories of happy days

I hope on day that we all find
The love that never leaves
One which makes us happier
A lo

What I FearFearing the craziness of preparation will scare me off
You confess that which terrifies you most to me
In that instant I knew, what scared me most wasn't the
Hoops, Loops and Theological retraining they threw at us.
What worries me, What causes my heart to cry
What puts me into the deepest depressions
Is the thought, the idea, the nightmare
Of never being with you again, seeing your face
Holding you tightly while these horrors
Are snapped and broken to lie buried evermore
It is not the preparation we should fear or bemoan
But the consequences of never finishing
That, my fiancee and love, is what I fear

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Flame

by *Teri-Taichou, Dec 8, 2012, 7:04:13 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

I am the flame
Burning bright in the night
Guiding the world
Radiant in light

Greedy and generous
I shine without fear
Come try and smother me
You'll burn if you dare

Blazing the trails
The future I'll spark
Kindling the flame
That lives in your heart

Fear me and use me
I am friend, I am foe
Tool for destruction
Of everything you know

Remember my power
Lest you be burned
When my anger is tested
And my rage is unfurled.

Burning to embers
I'll ignite again
Always existing
Charismatic to the end

Flameby *Teri-Taichou

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Bursting forth in flames
Burning to ash
Fire's enigma
Consumes all in a flash

~Kikuno-chan Dec 8, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Amazing literature!! ^u^ I love the verse "Remember my power, lest you will be burned". It sounds so fierce! ;u; <3 Amazing work!

*Teri-Taichou Dec 8, 2012

-blush- Thank you! I'm glad you like it

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