[x]

no one is ever going to want memaybe once
this would've been
poetic
but i'm crying &
there's nothing
pretty
or wonderful
here

i think
my face is scrunched
like a red rag
in the sink
slumped beneath a leaky
faucet &
my hands are shaking

maybe i could make
it
sound nice--
high
buzzed
lustful
but what i have
you won't like

memories
and do you want them too?
stealing & paying
pressing bottles and
pictures to my sternum
the heat
the cold

maybe it's the silence
that hurts
the stumbling
the tumult of words down
the sink and
across the floor
the empty heads
&

i was pretty then
bird-legs and stilted poems
so nice
numbering stars and
crushing books between
my teet

wanderlusti was all sex and stitches
with every color on a TV screen;

(and between me and you)
your teeth, your tongue,
your ferret-hands and knowledgeable mind--
they scared me.

the foreign worlds beneath your skin:
the contortions of your spine and
organs;

you wanted to conquer; to claim
and plant a flag--

and i--i wanted cancer

hungry ghostsswallowing the morning glow and
quiet pills:
fawn-eyed and rabbit-eared to
watch the warmth of limbo
touch the
city

going down down down
to where nothing alive
can see
the palls of grey hanging
from streetlights

and i try to find a metaphor

1. (hide your eyes from
penny candy and laughter--
white caravans and
dirt)
2. something less complex than nonsense;
simpler than art and noble habits
purging in the alleyways all the
virgin snow and eyelights
3. maybe it was meant to be this way:
the cold wakes the neighbors
as fate meets destiny to conspire
a way out

a religion
a brothel
a murder that wasn't meant to complete
me or the mani

i'm too young to be running out of dreamsthe brave kids
tore them in half
& the pretty
screamed

but it was a secret for us
that the other
side
was really blue &
worms had
ten
hearts

there was a note
of cruelty
in salt water & drowning
being torn
apart
for the benefit of the
species

so we came with a solution:
live forever
or
tear the wings &
bleed them out

you make me write bad poetryi made you up
from pillows and comforters
and anything that stuck
its tongue out from
my drawers

and slept in

next year i will shy away
like a child
when you touch me--
which
if you know me
(and you probably do)
seems very in-character
anyways--

but it's not like what
happened in the bookstore when
you
put your teeth against my ear
and everything felt
like it did last week
in the treehouse
except
backwards

it all seems so out of
context
like i am a little girl again
playing house
and pretending i know what those
funny words that taste
like soap and dirt
mean
and what we are

the long way hometoday i threw half my
fridge away
and waited for 25'000
to starve

people like you
jump off roofs and
stick their heads
in ovens

smile-face stickers
don't frown
(even when you put them
wrong-side-up)

life's already hard enough
without trying to
find
what all your curtains
mean

i am guilty
of forgetting about
my tea
the kettle boils
like my head on a pillow

you will never
see them again
or the fears that wonder
about you

it only lasts a little whileat the bottom
there is
love
little hands
dissolving themselves

in the desperate
sunlight & waves
cut by ships
and continents

open
suspended
trembling as the water
passes through

hollow bodies restless
& agile
waiting for the sun

give me my shadow, put on my crown.i.
I knew you well enough
to know your birthday
and middle name
[even the shampoo you wore
on my pillow that really needs to be cleaned anways.]

Your bow-arms and thin shoulders;
pretences always daring me to
look away.

A symphony of laughing bones;
a thousand "what if's"
without their "nevers"
and a silly pet name that gave you blond hair.

ii.

What could you ever know
about those little secrets
and apples in your eyes?

Nothing.
Nothing.

No mirrors;
until you sat with your hands
grabbing cold-shell ears--
over and over and over
until you believed

That if I did--I would remember
because it didn't happen of course;
no never, never.

N

lilith's childthe grass in eden is
trampled

& never grows

he is a stranger
to the wet warm seasons
& jackal nights

she is an animal
bitten
& sucking the venom

living in sinchurch is no place to discover
you're a lesbian:
like a cat in heat
trapped under those pews

i shut my eyes
and realize the brakes are shot
and all that's left
is a sex chromosome
and society

B-Flat MinorThat intolerable silence
Like thick smog choking the room
Suffocating all with its horrid perfume
That empty pit and vacant space
Where vagabonds leave their unkempt trace
Silence, a stillness that rots nerves,
And torments those who are in it.

The world holds its breath
Only waiting for
That one sound, one word, one whisper, one sob
But the tape never plays
Remarkable thing,
How the silence stays.

It’s as though somehow
A gag is stuffed down the throat,
All dingy and terribly soiled,
Cotton dipped in salt and motor oils
Is the taste of unspoken word and unshed tear.

So solemnly brimming over a wrenching quietness
Is a sound you th

HolesEach little lie, or hidden ambition
Hides in a hole, as is tradition
Riddled with dreams, and fearful obsessions
That once were loved, in someone's possession
All the broad smiles, each a facade
With monstrous trinkets: knit, torn, and odd
Still broken treasures can easily lie
To thoughts so forced they can't seem to cry
Though cloudy with tears, and false memories
Keeping a hope that fades to the breeze
As such locks can try, but still cannot
Forget what was already hastily forgot
By those that are troubled by labourous pasts
As thinkers attempt to help them at last
Claiming their tales and lies to be so
But what do imaginary people

Magic WandDragons fly through poison skies, their whispers in the wind
Ladybugs in black sandcastles, scratches on your skin
Hopscotch over quicksand, and a castle made of dirt
Shining silver crowns and dancing 'round in spinning skirts

Bloody, ruined princesses locked up in towers tall
Watching as the prince quickly begins to fall
Slowly, as the innocence does take her darling life
Please do watch now, as the magic wand becomes a knife...

i can make you love mewriters,
what thoughts
do you bend in
these cathedral-ribs
shaking with leaves?
(self-conscious,
headache)

shopping neon
for
a sinner's devotion
or that boy
in the other aisle

(i hold your books
and stroke the pages,
suddenly frightened)

'excuse me'
they haven't arrived:
(that was forty-five
minutes ago)

blushing and
hoping no one notices
that i've read this
before
as i watch him
slip behind the counter

(i devised a plan to
volunteer on fridays
and trap him)

as i read
sentence three
for the fifteenth
time

Thinking of Youmy virginity was
sacred

the holiest of altars
with a hundred religions'
blessing

my father's gun
a sentiel
to a breathing temple

so i took it myself

a prayer so long
forgotten
& innocence taken by the
right hand of god

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More from ~tubefed

will you ever learn to love yourselfshe was dead
before she hit the ground
a cell
frazzled & 60 percent water

her friends
or whatever you call them
‘seedy backwater
girl
brimming on the bus & never
wants to
haven’t you ever seen clouds before?’

she threw a handful of stones
pinched
sinking like balloons

a hungry ghost
tracing the outline
of a breaking surface

passion is a sinA faith-healer
A sermon
A misunderstanding

A bastard child--no father, no son, no holy spirit

No virgin mother
just passion as a god
lets the writers get it wrong

i can make you love mewriters,
what thoughts
do you bend in
these cathedral-ribs
shaking with leaves?
(self-conscious,
headache)

shopping neon
for
a sinner's devotion
or that boy
in the other aisle

(i hold your books
and stroke the pages,
suddenly frightened)

'excuse me'
they haven't arrived:
(that was forty-five
minutes ago)

blushing and
hoping no one notices
that i've read this
before
as i watch him
slip behind the counter

(i devised a plan to
volunteer on fridays
and trap him)

as i read
sentence three
for the fifteenth
time

because i have toimpaled
& wreaking havoc on these
young bones

more than endorphins &
planes out of control

pretending that if
not-so-masochistically

i--

p

a

r

a

l

y

z

e

d:

a manifestation
instilled in bedsheets
& ghosts

i'm not an artistwe do not belong in boxes
and bags and books or
words,
and we do not sit contently
in wordsworth and shakespeare
and blake, burns, and brownings
or in the cold stiff bones
of raleigh's of long ago;

no--

we infect,
detect, and re-select
a virus--a disease,
a germ in every verse and line;
the first signs of
foolish waitings under
bridges and scolding parents
and melodrama
and nothing to signify at all

yet--

we are the blood of nations
and the heart of men
and the love of every
rhetorist and sentimist
to come;
we dance through the ballrooms of
the age and chat with
higher minds
we shake hands with heros
and the homeless, dirty
type

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[x]

feed the masses (starve the girl)

by ~tubefed, Feb 4, 2013, 6:17:02 AM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

'eat
there are starving
children in africa'

'so being fat will help
them?'

give the dog some bones
that's all she has
left

zero-zero and your
concern
tasted like cold toast
(rather bitter, really)

she told her
secrets
to porcelin & water
(she keeps the
sink on
to drown out the noise)

one day:
stretch your fingers around
your thigh
fingernails-to-palm

& the heater goes on
higher
(the coats are good
anyways--
no one can see the
fat)

but she's chilled to the
bone
& everyone sees

'i'll never be beautiful'

feed the masses (starve the girl)by ~tubefed

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

©2013 ~tubefed

_{_{^{cottonballs
little white lights
exploding inside her stomach

she learned games
with her fork
tag with the salads}}}

Not the best thing I've ever written, but a personal piece.

~waiting-for-wings Feb 15, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

this is amazing! I love the first two segments best they really speak to me

Reply

~tubefed Feb 16, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thanks for the comment--I'm glad you liked it! Unfortunate though, that you can relate. /:

Reply

~fantasticEverything Feb 4, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Oh god, this made me so emotionally; it's a perfectly written tragedy that rings so sadly true

Reply

~tubefed Feb 5, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank ye for the comment...I'm glad it evoked emotion--although, I'm sorry it made you sad.

Reply

~fantasticEverything Feb 5, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

that's what I love about your poetry though - the feelings they incite

Reply

~tubefed Feb 8, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Dawh~ Thanke ye!

Reply

~DropFromTheOcean Feb 4, 2013

i read this poem a few times before totally understanding the whole thing (and that's a good thing!). this was really touching

Reply

~tubefed Feb 4, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Awh, thanks for putting in the time to do that.

Poems are always better when taken in fully...

Reply

=XxSilent-xXx-SirenxX Feb 4, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I love your poetry

Reply

~tubefed Feb 4, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you!

That means a lot.

Reply

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