[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

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

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

feed the masses (starve the girl)'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'

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 just wanted to make you something beautifulyour goodbye
tasted like cold
toast
rather bitter, really

kind of poetic--&
a bit absurd
while waltzing
around your bedroom

(hitting my shin
on the nightstand)

a goose dabbing
its beak in
lyrical genuis

a little less than
brillance
& every law of thermodynamics
pressed against
my inspiration

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

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

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

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

we will never grow old togetherwe will never grow old
muscles loose
beneath holy jeans
divine and baptised a thousand
times

when did the nerves
grow soft?
rain fallen on the hair
of cleopatra &
tennyson

i didn't think about it
with ears pressed to the trees
the universe expanding
& pulling my life
in every direction

that 103 and dying
on my birthday
sounded so romantic
but less than
32 promised an eternity

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

DepartureA hapless loser;
a lionhearted wallflower, if you will.

Browbeaten, sheepishly slipping through the curtains on the window.
Intimidated by the high-pitched noise you hear when there is no other sound in the night.
Bellowing out like a soldier stuck in his trenches.
I am heard, as I impinge your eardrums,
yet you're as steady as a statue during a windstorm.

My mother always told me that I was a well balanced child;
I had a chip off both of my shoulders.
One day the gulls will swarm down and make a nest of our bones
and you will still be as level headed then as you are now.

So go my friend, I bid you adieu.
Cast off your anchors, and feel t

white noise.sometimes i turn off the greasy yellow lights and run the water lava hot.
the quiet porcelain is an untouched coffin
familiar as the look in your eyes.
i can hear my heart beat in my ears
and i stare at the ceiling until it darkens and blurs at the edges.
my body is heavy as lead
i cannot remember the weight of movement.
sometimes the closest i can get is the suicide between each breath
and the apology unspoken on the inhale.
my skin is a ladder i keep climbing,
i can see through the rungs to the fat cells that weigh down my bones.
sometimes,
my hand becomes his when it creeps uninvited over the landscape of my body
and across the staircase of my ribs.
i can't erase the feeling of his body pressed like a book
over my flower.
my head is white noise that bleeds red,
but i'm tired of all the blood.
tired of all the memories like channels
i keep flicking past.
sometimes i wonder if i cut enough slack in my skin,
&

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lilith's child

by ~tubefed, Feb 8, 2013, 1:44:49 PM
Literature / Poetry / Romantic / Erotic / Free Verse

the 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

lilith's childby ~tubefed

Literature / Poetry / Romantic / Erotic / Free Verse

for single's awareness day...more to come

=slowslicksnails Mar 11, 2013 Student Writer

Interesting. The way I saw it was, the boy was the innocent one and the girl wasn't. I liked that "twist" on gender stereotypes and all. This poem was quite entertaining and a bit humorous how it was played out in my head (the boy was kinda just dressed up all nice, wore nerdy clothes but hasa face of a jock. the girl looked like a better bella from twilight. ) It seemed to me like the boy was trying this new thing that the girl does every night as well. What I got from "this new thing" was 'hooking-up'.
Very interesting read. So short, but still packed in a lot. I like it a lot!

~tubefed Mar 11, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I tried to put a spin on Biblical allusions. So many people use them darkly...>.>' I can see why though--religion tends to be kind of a...heavy...subject.

I wasn't really going with humor with this one, but those images in your head are waaayyy different than mine. I was sitting there thinking of the loss of innocence (the grass being trampled and not growing back), a dangerous sex-addiction (the girl was "bitten" [if you catch my drift -pervy me-] and is trying hurriedly to rid herself of the "venom" [by the way, sucking the venom of a rattlesnake doesn't help, if you've ever heard that]), and an allusion to Satan (the jackal.) o^o But, it's poetry, and the interpretation varies wildly with the person. (Trust me, I'm doing a research paper for my AP Lit. class now...and damn these people are contradicting.)

So, overall, thanks a whole bunch of bananas (I don't know) for the comment.

I love them.

=slowslicksnails Mar 11, 2013 Student Writer

I can really see that, the meaning that you meant for it. I love your original meaning, really - it's so cool and interesting! it adds more definition to your poem.

(i've been wanting to try to write a religious poem myself lately...)

You're ver welcome with a whole bunch of bananas.

I'm glad you do!

~tubefed Mar 11, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thanks.

I write religious poetry all the time. TT-TT It's this horrible "I'm agnostic but not really whatever lol" type of blargh. I mean, sometimes it's okay. I really like Biblical allusion poetry, like this. It's just so much fun!