Tag: author

Poem: Mid-18th century French (intoxicating you)

distantcaveLeave a comment

Poem: Mid-18th century French (intoxicating you)

I’m baby blueprint in grid print intoxicating you
I’m the Fourth of July, 3 summers ago when we got high
We asked when did we stop having the times of our lives

My neck is so hurt, it’s too much for me to look down
But I always do
Redirect to separate avenues
Skateboard to my house, I’ll come out for you
Green apple lollipop, sour
Teach me your tricks and make it rain for a half-hour
Just enough to get the grill hot
Just enough to get me to take the most bone-chilling cold shower
I’m coming in hot
But I always leave so cold
In the cab I sit there- forlorn, morose, staring at the floor
Letting the kids run by and do what they’re told
I reminisce about the days when to be elegant wasn’t to be bold, and I coughed like raindrops like saran-wrap covering old left-overs
If it rains it pours, well you’re leaving – I’m sure
You always thought your music taste was so obscure
If it rains, it pours
Well, you’re leaving – I’m sure

I’m melting into hydrocodone bitartrate so crystallized you’d sell me for my Chemistry degree and put my name on your white t-shirts
Spray mist on your face until you’re reimbursed
Like daggers, how smooth you are when fatalities aren’t your responsibility, and you make your way down to the ferry where the starfishes know your name and keep it a secret
Nobody cares anyway

I’m coming in hot
But I always leave so cold

It’s too much for me to look down
But I always do
Reaching separate avenues

I said, life is a gamble
But I’m covering my face with my hands
My life is in shambles!
Can someone help me escape from this nonchalant misery I’ve so gracefully pretended is how to live a life?
I don’t make sense to anyone
I’m always deleting phone numbers
Past lovers
The smothered
The weak and the downtrodden, England in the shade
Four in the afternoon
Crisp, deafening cave
When you and I were little, we loved to misbehave
But now the landlord is asking for payments for our graves
And it’s mid-18th century French and it means
“Go fuck yourself”

Somber
Oppressively sober in mood
He looked at her with this decadent tone that I’d almost call smooth
If it wasn’t for the violence we heard up the street
The night skies were starless
I fell asleep regardless
I just wanted to escape for a week or two
I never knew my nightmares would come true
I liked the dark and the dull in colour but honey, what happened to you?
What’d they do to you?
What are you so scared of?
Why do you still try to write songs out of my poetry?
Why do you recycle and reread my emails?
Why do you send me false compliments in the mail?
Why’d you hire an attorney when you’d likely be better off in jail?
I don’t particularly adapt to being hated
I just deal
Fifty-dollar bill
I have a white dress that makes me look like a ghost and I thought I met a new boy that would love me the most
But he’s slipping out of my fingers, of course
Tell me I’m not predictable

Grey daffodils, crisp July skies
I just wanted to escape for a week or two
I never knew my nightmares would come true
It’s November and there’s not much more to expect from the undesirable residue
I just hoped I could sit down and paint you
Make something beautiful
Capture a black button-down shirt

Was it good when it hurt?
I’m stumbling over forgotten words
Insecure (or in great difficulties)
He was miserable without her

All is not lost
There is still some chance of success or recovery
But me, haha, me?
Sometimes when a defeat has been sustained
It’s better for everyone involved that you don’t speak my name

Not that there is much to be ashamed
It’s just
Was it good when it hurt?
I told you over and over,
I’m not a good flirt

I’m not a good flirt

If it rains, it pours
And it’s mid-18th century French and it means
“Go fuck yourself”

Poem: Waves (key of D minor)

distantcaveLeave a comment

Poem: Waves (key of D minor)

You are
Honey wire
And I’m trembling and downcast, so you throw me in the fire
My appearance may seem neat, and I’m charming and upbeat
But despondent and you know it
So we get along

My crush on you is set in the key of D minor, playing at approximately 230 beats per minute

Airs and graces, airs and graces
Conceit and peril
Your upstairs neighbor plays Lana Del Rey all day, so you can’t get over me
I tell you, that sounds like a personal problem
Me, I’m dissolving into hazy disputes between obsidian and like-minded jewels and magnified atrocities like speckles on black rocks that we find at the beach when we’re competing to find the most beautiful of wonders
The waves crash
The waves crash
You’re becoming attached
I text you right back

I told you I’m not bitter, I’m just soft and destructive
You’ll fall in love with me because I’m accidentally seductive
My best talent is in being constructive
But nobody wants a girl that tells you who you should be
And that’s a disadvantage on their behalf

If you could choose wisdom, why wouldn’t you have
I’m struggling to come to terms with that

I feel bad for making fun of you for your pride because I think you’ve got a sentimentality to hide
And it may be against my best interest to decide to deride
But you took me surfing, and I had the best time of my life
Falling over and over and over for you
(Just kidding) the waves
Amethyst haze
You tried to hold my hand when we entered a natural cave
On the beach with eighty-one pounds of bleach
Nothing makes sense when you’re a ball of pretense
Mid-17th century tone to your writing, which I like because it’s fancy, and I didn’t know you were the fancy kind
For such a laid-back guy
We swam in the same ocean with different eyes
I submerged into the sea because I was taken up by the tides, and it led me to disassemble my crystallized disguise that I only put on for show because underneath I am nothing but dark, glass-like volcanic rock, and I’m not sure whether that’s your type

The waves crash
The waves crash
You’re becoming attached
I text you right back

My best talent is in being constructive
But nobody wants a girl that’s this small and destructive
What happens when it’s me that crumbles?

But nobody wants a girl that tells you who you should be
And that’s a disadvantage on their behalf
If you could choose wisdom, why wouldn’t you have
I’m struggling to come to terms with that

I’m struggling to come to terms with that

You agree to receive email communication from us by submitting this form and understand that your contact information will be stored with us.

Poem: Your short poem

distantcaveLeave a comment

Poem: Your short poem

I’m going to write a short poem for you
Because your attention span in regard to me is dim, like my light
Like species survival in the afternoons by the Caribbean seas
Like a sunset that I swallowed because I was hungry and cold
How you lit me a half-broken cigarette, said I was engaging and bold
You shined your white teeth and like heaven I was sold

I took a section of your brain to look for “Fos” proteins to see which neurons were active
And I saw a glimpse of you and me on the playground
You were wearing blue jeans
Grass stains and all
I was wearing a pink gown like I was dressed for the ball
We were talking about being together and having it all
The wind blew
I got cold
You cradled me like a baby
Asked me to move in with you, I said screw you, maybe
I was so happy
I gleamed
Loyal like a preteen
So high on amphetamines
You kissed me on Seafoam boulevard, amongst the serene
By the ocean, strawberry cream lotion
Patches of snow, circles of rainfall
I’m in love with how you’re seventy-four inches tall
You call me graceful, for I’m patient and small
Call me once, just one phone call

Arachnoid hematomas
So thin you could see through my veins
Put me on the back of your bike, make me hold you real tight
Heaven shines in my eyes, it’s fluorescent and bright
White cerebral wave light
The stars and the apocalyptic tides
The places where my sensitivities hide

In your harsh but kind gaze I reside, and I don’t know why, I don’t know why

I wanted to write you a short poem
Because I can’t forget how much you mean to me
So I put words together, loosely, and tied them with a silver string
I asked you to light me up in the dark
But your attention span in regard to me is dim
Like my light

There is a light that always goes out

Poem: Your honeycomb (you were pure)

distantcaveLeave a comment

Poem: Your honeycomb (you were pure)

Respect
My angel baby, my love for you
Your honeycomb, bittersweet elegance
Pink nail polish on the highest shelf
With you, I’m my best self
Rest assured I’m in good health
All for the commonwealth
I have a thousand secrets I’m refusing to tell
But if you captivate me enough, entrance me into a maybe, lure me into your consensual cave where we can reminisce about our funniest, most awful, of heartbreaks
For the moment’s sake
I’m crystal-made
I’m dissolving in tangents made up from aptitude
I’m L-Dopa converting to dopamine
Transfusing to you my sweet nectar of the gods (hey, I love how that collar looks on you)
Hey, I love how that sweater looks on you
And if I wore one just like it
Interlaced your arm with mine
Would we be simply divine?
Would we look intertwined?
Would your heart, at the end of the night, be mine?

I’m silly
I’m running away from you
In the whitest of the white lace and tulle
A skirt so pretty it makes boys hurt
I’m not a pacifist, I’m quite the ignorant jerk
I repel people like diamonds in tunnel vision
I’m sparkly and iridescent, but they say I’m pitch black
They don’t know me like that
Don’t know I can be precious
Don’t know I can be sweet
Hot and heavy, sharp on my feet
Lose myself in the summer heat
I find myself when I choose not to cheat
I’m nobody’s mistake but my own
Crescent moon devour me still
Hold me until I’m candlelit
On fire, rupture, rapture, hold me, capture
I’m quite the disaster
But if you were to look away…

You’d never
I’d beg you
Surrender your hopes and dreams to my castle of what could’ve been and what was once was that is no more
I found you in a cave, you were mine, I found you!
You didn’t behave on your own!
You had to be tamed!
Was it foolish of me to pick up where we left off?
You glanced at me, took a sip of whiskey and scoffed
I don’t like how you look with that cup in your hand
I’d rather find you at the DMV, Tolstoy’s narrative in your hand
You’re so good at being grand
And when I’ll be queen I’ll demand
To share this bittersweet, homely, wholehearted world with you
Never shelter you
Always unsettle you
Make you divide by two
Alongside me in front of Lake Michigan, that’s a dream too sweet for me to save in my neural space
You always said I had the most perfect, soft face
But you couldn’t keep up with my vapid pace

I’ll outrun you in marathons, I’ll sprint past you in daydreams
I went to five stores to find a wedding dress that I ended up being unhappy with
So we canceled our plans
Were unsure of where we could stand
See each other in impure reality or dissolve into volatile pieces of sand
I’ll take you by the hand
Push you into the ocean, make you suffer some more
Until you’re practically begging me to take you to shore
But I’m not done yet, I haven’t even gotten to the gore
When you were in love with me, you were pure
When you were in love with me, you were pure
When you were in love with me, you were pure
When you were in love with me, you were pure

Fly me to Paris, I’ll take you on a tour
Of the rose gardens, I wanted to become your bride in
Of wife and of man
I’m laying in the sand
Drew a heart in the dirt, cobblestone made me hurt
You wouldn’t say a word

When you were in love with me, you were pure
When you were in love with me, you were pure
When you were in love with me, you were pure
When you were in love with me, you were pure

Now nothing I wear makes me pretty
I’m shaking, trembling, and fidgety
This is what the anxiety does to me

You were
Stained black and I couldn’t
Differentiate up from down
You closed in on me like atmospheric surround sound
And when you asked what I wanted to do, I didn’t lie, I said I wish I would drown

You used to tell me I was prettiest in the bathtub.

Poem: She could’ve been

distantcaveLeave a comment

Cocaine kisses, send me off the edge into the abstract obscurity of my conception of time, space, life, youth, vigor, hate, and sour green apples

Cradle me
I’m an angel
Lying in a soft heaven encapsulated by aquamarine lullabies and the cries of a thousand little shadows
So hazy
Pretty baby
Little lady
Spiraling in clusters of neural cell bodies that extend axons down to their terminal buttons
I recognized her voice coming from outside my window
But she wasn’t talking to me
She wasn’t talking to me

Tiny clusters of dazzling diamonds
What, in your life, is priceless? Conceptually?
Sensually?
Horizontally?
I am a nicotinic receptor, please don’t bother me while I’m at work
It’s a little complicated, but I’m going to keep on going
It’s all I need to do – be brave, be strong, endure, go on
Lying on my pink plush bed staring at the ceiling fan
Circling and circling and circling and circling
Enzymes and substrates and catecholamines
I do my best work when I can’t be seen

Starships and amphetamines

God, I love your energy
It soothes me
Invigorates me
Calms me
Quiets me
Loves me

Cocaine causes your brain to sit in a bath of dopamine
I like to pour lavender-infused Epsom salts into the warm water and add bubbles because I’m a child at heart
And I’m trying to hold on and not break my own heart
But it’s hard
It’s so hard
I don’t know where to start

And you’re so far

You’re so far (we could have been as deep as the oceans)
And I think I’m okay
The mental image that I’ve created of you is slowly fading, and I’m returning to the reality, the vacancy
Encouraging normalcy
Doing pirouettes in my living room to French classical music
Tranquil lullabies
Cheap thrills
Hundred dollar bills
Poison in your pocket for the next martyr you’ll kill

Sit down at your desk, put your chin to your chest
Stretch your neck
Give feedback to the people you like in your life
Tell them how you’re doing
Ask them how they are
I’m overdosing in the bathtub from all this dreamy black tar
I’m racing a stranger 120 miles per hour in my fucked up classic car
They’ll say, she could’ve been a star

They’ll say, she could’ve been