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umbrellasI.umbrellas
A boy putters in the hotel corridor, leashed by a single thread of duty-- it is wound twice around the doorknob, pulls taut at his wrist.
Recede through the keyhole, and his keepers are weary, sprawled like dead leaves on bedspreads, and fading into sleep.
II.
A small girl wails, maybe three, her teethy pitch escalating by years.
In the rented night, her last cry strangles, undone by hands on wrists.
III.
A forty-foot red curtain separates us from the amph
by ~Jellygraph
this poem is me1.this poem is me
I started this poem at midnight with cigarette smoke choking my skin
and the outside air clogging up
my cold lungs.
The damp floor stole my seat, so I just stood in the dark looking up.
2.
I see nothing-ness, just black with the occasional pale yellow moon clambering into my view. I like how eyelashes curl upwards
and the blue of your irises, but that doesn’t matter, not now everything has squeezed into shadow.
And the clouds - well they just hold onto happy things, letting go of the ugly
&nb
by ~inmyroom
Fallen LeavesThe next time I think of you I want it to be brief, the kind of contemplationFallen Leaves
a child gives the small brown leaf smuggled indoors under his boot; a momentary blur of syllables
before he discards it in the trash.
As it is now, I see far too clearly each brittle vein crinkling fine lines that stretch onward,
finally veering away from wretched pain and rage, yet with no certain path.
My memories of you
are like fallen leaves, composting sentiments and insights quietly into fertile ground for life.
by ~soul-lozenge
from the sidelinesOver dusty shoulders I seefrom the sidelines
a world I'll never win, and I should be anywhere.. Anywhere but here..
Dirty chalk clouds slur through a city sky until they drop off the stale earth,
and this is my story, and I shall follow them, and I shall fall. Harsh and ugly.
We lived life like we were the only ones not broken.
Your heart was the fist matching my bruises,
we were misplaced children, collapsed from our worlds
&nb
by ~inmyroom
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: New York
- Interests: Theater, Reading, Writing
- Favourite movie: Memoirs of a Geisha
- Favourite genre of music: Jazz
- Favourite poet or writer: Deviant: FinalFantasyGoddess
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unknown command error: sleep
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"It's all right to be afraid, . . . because this part won't be like a comic book. Real life doesn't fit into little boxes that were drawn for it."
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