The little birds are screaming and their mother is angry because they’re worsening her chronic migraine. “How do you expect someone who grew up in a house made out of screams, to learn to make any other sound without ever going out?” ~ How disrespectful can you be To miss the critical differences Between banter …
Category Archives: Poems
Empty
Boxes;Just in caseYou’d ever like to keepAll the waysAll the whysOf how you keep yourself In pain. ~♥~
Similar
How similar are all the storiesOf the people.Of their everyday lives,And the not-so-everydayDays wrapped in knivesOr days wrapped in velvet;A coat of tufted fabric;A coat of bloodBright with sacrifice. You cannot have everything,Neither can I. Children get worseWhen they float high. But, I am willingTo compromise. Come, I’ll sing youA lullaby.Twinkle TwinkleDon’t you cry.I am …
Drift
I’m trying to grasp a pile of sand and take it off shore. But, I’m a boat. I’m a small wooden boat no one would use. My wooden boards are chapped and cracked, uneven, and barely holding together. I was imperfectly made, and time and humidity decided to take their toll on me and make …
Chunky peanut butter
Hello My name is Chunks and I am a lump of chunky peanut butter. Ever since I was a little peanut, everyone has loved my sister, Skips, who’s also a lump of peanut butter. I love her too, of course. I have to. She’s my sister. The difference between us is that I’m too full …
Mirai
Mirai, when you come,What gift do you plan to get me?Do I matter? Am I too tinyfor you to seeWhen I’m tired?When I’m drenched in sweatAnd tears?When I’m dirtied with the bloodfrom the wounds ofCold and fear? Will you love me backIf I gave up all these thingsJust for you?If I gave up love?And stopped …
Changes
Good changes. The best kind. You get to work, work, and never think. You get so busy that you don’t have the time to be sad or to remember anything. Remembering is human and everything human makes you weak. Being human is easy. Your pupils would go dilated, you would laugh, or smile, or cry. …
Pirouette
Swift and tranquil,Quiet and steady.The footsteps of a ghostGliding on a stage. Days on an apple.Spinning away.“It makes me feel lighter!”Is all you would say. As light as a falling feather,But not so steady.A soundless thud breaksThe floor of your cage. Is it getting harder?You’re not getting weaker.You need to get lighter.Your shape is what …
SingulariT 