[x]

1With liquid bones and sunlight hair
I've drunken myself down to a watery mess
of spilled words and ugly mysteries.
I find myself in you,
and I cringe at the notion that maybe today
I should love myself.

ZoningIt is a constant;
free-falling then rib tugging inhalations
wrapping my body around blurred conclusions
and heavy sentiments.
Escape routes go through cigarette butts
to catching illusory stars
to gasping into the nebulizer
until the transition from awake
to passed out happens in seconds.
Nothing interests me
but the hand that finds mine under the lace,
the eyes that try to pull words from my pupils
and then match them by kissing my skin,
masking untamed fantasies with comforting hums.
The night isn't successful
until the ceiling blends into the navy blankets,
while eyelashes are collected on some stranger's fingertips
and b

SkinBut you can't love me the way you need to;
the exhaustion and endless run around
of trying to put one bone to the other,
a jigsaw without the edges,
I've worn you down to a mess of suffocated trial
and mostly error.
I would apologize, but a mistake this big
should be wiped clean before it spreads.
I stand on the edges of places I don't belong
and the wind becomes saturated with my attempts to quietly
take myself back from the world.
My breaths are beleaguering pleads for comprehension;
to quell the indecisiveness of wanting to be left for your sake
or wanting you to stay for mine.
But you can't love me the way I need you to
if

Tasteless bitchesThe worst thing I do to myself
came from an idea that brewed on your taste buds
and slipped between my split ends,
planting itself like a fuck-crazed virus on my neck.
And now I lie awake and write about you,
letters and numbers and shitshitshit taking a parachute
to my ceiling, bursting against loose nails
and falling back like hail onto my bed.
I meditate with the taste of your laughter in my palms,
a saffron colored stain on the fabric of my skin,
eternal and loud.
Your alcoholic traits rubbed off on me
and I'm a perpetual truth-teller who writes your name
across mirrors so when I look at myself
I'll always see you.
I'll

Untitledi've found theres something missing inbetween hearing the voices of these magical men tell me that i'm worth it, and i should keep this chest convulsing and actually giving a fuck, because you're fucking famous as hell and you're rich and you're jetting around the world and telling everyone the same thing, and its not the fucking same anymore
yes, you survived. well done. gold fucking star for you.
you must be a special fucking case cause most of us will simply not snap and live a boring ass life until life decides its had enough of us and kicks us out of the club.
it stuck. and it kicks me in the ribs every time i try and get you to pull me from a ledge, or away from the bus or whatever. its different somehow. you can sing, and draw and your wife is fucking banging. you're successful and i'm just a talentless pathetic potato. i keep jumping from goal to goal, and never getting anywhere with any of them and falling flat on my
fucking face
i know you were all suicidal, and that yo

PaginationI perused the pages of your spine,
like a desperate and dying woman
would cling to the collar of the last man
to walk past and say
"I'm going and I'm okay with this."
Turn around.
And hold me around the hips
so when I fall apart,
the last part of me to go would be where
you spent the better of your time
with me.

TraversingRetentive raindrops are on my skin,
beady misrepresentations of whispers
that tried to solidify,
tried to remind me of what I attempt to say.
Lying in between blades of wish-making weeds,
I curse myself for never being able
to speak when I most need to.

It is mid-day, and the heat cuts through
this quiet rain, like you
penetrate my senses, from a place so far;
further than miles should measure, you say
things to me that I can not pocket, only keep
in my wonderings, like my own mumblings.

I let the ground soak itself around me
and listen to the slush of nature, speaking to itself.
With a jealous tint in my voice
I say 'you don'

to the counselor who thinks i am suicidali really hope
that this isn't one of those things
where you check in with my teachers
and call my parents if i don't show up
for school
one day,

because you know
that could really fuck up
my sex life, and all the
drugs
i've been doing, and all the
cars
i've been stealing,
people i've been murdering,
etc

and definitely
all of the
poems
i've been writing

not to mention
all of the sleep
i haven't been
getting

starvetoday, i don't hate myself enough
to deny the hungers for -

distractions
a cup of coffee that will treat me like sin dancing to the pulse of my bloodstream
food
the absence of guilt
cracks in personality
screaming poems silently at my reflection
silence

today, i will gorge
on the things i vowed to give up.

today, i will break vows.

today, i am a glutton
for relapse and binge cycles,
for starvation and changing reflections.

tomorrow, i will wish
i could be the skeleton that
hangs in my closet.

[ leave the tears where they lie,
take the fallen stars and ripped up wings,
do not regret spinning circles
around vices. ]

072i ached enough that day
to salt the atlantic ocean
three time over

ResidueI shouldn't make promises I can't keep;
like I'll eat breakfast,
and remove the knots from my hair,
or that I'll stop writing about you.

I woke up alone and heard you singing
like sound residue,
liquid-like, staining my walls and dripping
from my eyelashes like dreams I refused to have.

Every day begins and ends
with the bittersweet taste on my tongue;
like overnight wine and nervous orgasms.

But then you sleep against me;
an ache I almost deserve,
and you remind me that without you,
I have no words worth saying.

A(nother) letter to myself.You have grown.

You are not ten years
old and silent.

You've found the words
and you have made them
your sword and your shield,

your battering ram against
the walls you built when you
were too afraid to live.

And I know that some days
you feel like letting go,
like falling.

That you wonder if it might
feel like flying if you spread your arms
and close your eyes and pretend you
aren't doing this to die.

You have stood on the edges
of rooftops and bridges
(To follow her, I know,
but you were not born to go this way.)
and you have climbed back down.

You will make it, my girl,
by the skin of your teet

awake from my dream state.it was a leap of faith
but i wish someone had pushed me
so i had someone to blame

an open woundIsland mist tatters my blinds,
and I can't see through the dirty glass,
can't see myself,
can't understand the ways my body bends
to fit the affliction settled in my joints.

There's so much to say;
not enough words to describe you,
to pile the calamities and keep them
behind a silken bookmark.
Tidal waves in my stomach
and raw cigarettes in my lungs,
I am sick.
Listen.
To the thunderous demolition of what I tried
so hard to be.
Listen, to the crackle of rotting exhilaration.

I am in slumber
and I am unsure of myself
and I am
unidentified.

systemhe said that one day I,
who have grown accustomed
to accumulating moons,
drawn like moths
to my Venus-brightness,
would meet my match.

he told me I would be
captured by the brilliance
of a star,
a Betelgeuse, a behemoth:
supergiant turned supernova turned
supermassive black hole.

he informed me, peeking out
from under my gravity,
his erratic elliptical orbit,
that one day I would be
swallowed up

and that it would be poetic justice.

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Sightless
i mailed to you in plastic bottles
and s.o.s notes burned at your fingertips,
so much that i became heavy
and i could no longer drift to you
for my toes grazed against broken hearts
and threaded words left entwined
with the remnants of a destructive ocean
i could never wade away from.

these words became thoughts
and those thoughts became lucid dreams
till i was reaching for your bones
the way i waited for teenage epiphanies;
aching and without much hope,
i was drowning
and water never tasted so good
until i was coughing it up.

pressing and pressing,
i was embossed with your tarnishing lips
and these wave lengths
keep me

Brood
Keys; in a permanent state of pain
from these calloused fingers
beating them desperately
for a glimmer of sensible hope
for things to have hope over-
they do not sleep, they do not sing
but chew the words I have no breaths for.

Fetus;
cold and warped under sheets
stained white with salivated moans
and left immobile
to decay over these self consuming perceptions
with death so desultory.

Smiles;
ephemeral in lonely streets
and imaginative corners.
These lights become labyrinthine
and *click*
the world has shut you out.

UntitledSomewhere along the way
I lost sight of me in you;
Watching to a certain degree of misfortune
As my own flaws became hazy
In a cloud of condescension.

I found pieces of your skin
trapped under my chipped nails
and the pressure of your pulse
against my caved-in sternum
came racing back like a desperate train.

I should have known digging in wouldn't help
As ten tons of sin and steel steamed steadily closer
And, yes, it hit me that when it hits me
I wouldn't even slow it down,
But you never blew the whistle.

Instead, I lay across the tracks
and begged in a silently surrendering sigh
for you to say those words
that I didn't know

JournalsTonight we run on gasoline,
mascara cheeks and paint ball weapons,
packed carefully into three hours
of endless roads and untamed hearts.

These mountainous songs can't drown out
the gurgle of anticipation
that lies rumbling in the pits of our stomachs
and the wondrous escape
that slept, mapped onto our desert palms.

We're walking by starlight,
cupping our chests together,
leaving miles on each other's tongues
and opening our chests for the cold winds
to stir up the storms in our lungs.

Tonight we run on wordless paths,
throwing our breaths to the rest of the world
and hope our stories won't make it to paper.

Protest inadequatelyBlack moth, perched on your shoulder;
little girl, go to sleep,
he'll return tomorrow night.
These illustrated teeth still bite
and the white of those eyes are waiting
for when you fail to open your own.

Pray, on your knees, child
because nothing can save you
but these false revelations
and your well rehearsed smile.

Black bird, knocks on your window
when morning hides behind these draperies,
locking the oxygen out
keeping these bones, tightly in.

A drunken phraseThought streams run off
heavy eyelids and slackened jaws
and I'm inhaling the drowsy smirk
that curves into a crinkle
at the corner of your star-lit eyes.

This is no town
for the unstable and self-destructive,
but the roads are winding
and the trees are muttering
so somehow, this feels like home.

There's a distant call
from sleep and desirable comfort,
to carry our numbness
and put them under covers
so we can never find it again.

Midnight galaxies are lying on our lips
and we are making explosions
from under our nails
and through the scratches developing
on the line of our backs.

Lyrics are senseless
but the tunes are fam

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05

by ~psithurisms, Jan 5, 2013, 8:05:47 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

^{Well, it's just depressing
being this sober in a crowd where everything seems
so much lighter.
Because he's only touching me so I could shift my vision
to his hands on my thighs,
away from his eyes on my friend's soft mounds
that just yearn for him the way my lips travel the span of his jawline
like it's the only place I'll ever go.
But I'm stupid for the night
and I just want him to undress me slowly
and I want to forget all the times he called me by the wrong name
just so I could go home bruised and guilty.
And with every button he chews off,
I feel my sighs grow heavier until his weight is crushing
any opportunity for me to run.
But the body you're fucking with your lips and hips
isn't the body your mind made you this turned on for
and it's just so goddamn depressing
being so sober
in this crowd of willingness
when no one else can tell the difference.}

05by ~psithurisms

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

©2013 ~psithurisms

^{Have you ever been so scared to go out because you just know how easy it is to make yourself unhappy?}

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~valkvick Jan 11, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

This is raw and honest and amazing. And I hope it doesn't happen for you (or anyone you know, for that mattter) very often.

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~psithurisms Jan 13, 2013 Writer

^{me too
thank you so much <33}

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*KiddosPoet Jan 8, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

This makes me sad

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~psithurisms Jan 8, 2013 Writer

^nu

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`vespera Jan 7, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Chai, way to punch it in the gut

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~psithurisms Jan 7, 2013 Writer

^YEAH!

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`vespera Jan 7, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

OH THAT ICON IS AMAZING!

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~psithurisms Jan 7, 2013 Writer

heheheheheh

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~tiajones Jan 6, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

)':

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~psithurisms Jan 6, 2013 Writer

D:

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