Tag: biography

Poem: On the balcony (Merry Christmas)

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Poem: On the balcony (Merry Christmas)

I thought about how you didn’t say Merry Christmas
Even though it’s my most favourite of holidays
I thought of all the rainy dates
The sombre, cold Saturdays
Square cross-sections of apple-green pyroxene
Hand over my mouth while I scream
The antagonism of adenosine by caffeine
The nights of unconditional pain
Nothing to lose, nothing to gain
I thought of you as my John Wayne
Only my devotion remained the same

Daffodils paint your iridescent smile
I always try to get you to stay for a longer while
I’m not who you’re looking for, but I’m trying
The roses I buy myself are perpetually dying
If you bought them for me, they’d stay alive
They’d put their hands on my shoulders when they’d come on by
I’d never have to come up with a reason why
When you’re faithful and in love
There’s no reason to lie

I nailed death decrepit, got it in centuries-old buildings
You throw away all the invitations to friends’ weddings
I’d love to meet your family
I’d love to meet your friends
I’d love to meet anybody that admires the time you spend
Fixing up daisies
Mowing the lawn
You softened my view of right and wrong
You made me too vague to quite belong

Falling out of love with someone you’ve loved for so long
Sounds an awful lot like an unfamiliar song

But I’m learning the chords
Your vinyl collection, of course
You want me to play housewife and do all your chores
But with my pale blonde hair you still manage to get bored
The hollowness in my eyes has become an eyesore
So when I look directly at you, you just choose to ignore
And I wait at the docks, my knees up to the shore
If I asked you for freedom, you couldn’t give me any more
Spoke to me like a virgin
Told the world I was a whore

I could leave tomorrow
You wouldn’t say goodbye
It was my absolute most favourite holiday
And you must have forgotten that brilliant thing you had to say
My friends keep saying this time I need to stay away
No more watering the garden
No more child-like play
Find me reminiscing in your spot in the doorway
Nostalgia too much to bear
Your petit-mal seizure stare
I’m not quite there
But I’m almost halfway

I molded you into a diamond
You decayed that way
Now you’re so lost in thought that you’re digging your own grave
I’m upset my soft face can’t bring you back
Been trying to determine what it is I lack
It’s so sad to see you so worn out like that
My words are so useless, coated in coal-black
You’re so sober when you drink your cognac
I keep thinking of this one hazy flashback

It’s you and me on the balcony
But this time you’re in love with me

I’m not who you’re looking for, but I’m trying
The roses I buy myself are perpetually dying
If you bought them for me, they’d stay alive
They’d put their hands on my shoulders when they’d come on by
I’d never have to come up with a reason why
When you’re faithful and in love
There’s no reason to lie

You only see black & white but I’m lilac
You only see in me all the things I lack
A heroin dream that begins and ends with black

I know I said forever, but I’m not coming back
I know I said forever, but I’m not coming back

It’s you and me on the balcony
But this time you’re in love with me
I know I said forever, but I’m not coming back
But this time you’re in love with me

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Poem: Femoral artery (fever dreams)

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Poem: Femoral artery (fever dreams)

I watch you when you’re bad
I take careful notes
I set them on fire and summon gentle ghosts
They won’t scare you or hurt you the most
Nothing like true love taken away, not even close

I’m sixteen in a few days, I’m trapped in this body
I want you to mimic a system like monoclonal antibodies
Feed the hunger
Burn the rage
Set flames to whom I accused you of being
Prove me wrong
Come as a surprise
I’m finding I don’t make the impression that I imply
Sunsets after jazz concerts on the lawn
I try to find stingrays in the ocean when I swim
I think if this life is a fight, then I’ll most likely win
But they’re doing a good job of telling God that I sinned

Like fever dreams
Like soft doeskin
That came from a being you shouldn’t have touched
I wonder at what point will it all be enough
Blew smoke in his face, he tried calling my bluff
I wake up strong, but I wouldn’t say I’m tough
My wrists are so small the cops use child handcuffs
I wish I was making all this stuff up

To live a romantic life is to surrender to passion
With the weather today, I would say it’s not in fashion
Love for me will never be everlasting

I want it to be
I desperately hope
But we always lose the ones we love the most
They hit your bare knees, the cascading blue waves
Make you stay up pacing around for days
I don’t have the time, and I’ve lost my own place
I was so far ahead
I was almost there
I thought I was close
I was almost there
I choked on my insides
I was almost there
I saw my femoral artery
Blood soaked my white underwear

Like fever dreams
Like soft doeskin
That you’ll always regret purchasing because your ex-girlfriend was a vegan and the way she wears pink ribbons in her ash blonde hair makes you go wild
You act like a child
And I wouldn’t even say your advantage was mild
Knock on my door
Stay a while
I’ll only be happy watching you char in the fire

I know the feeling
I know the daze
I know the brilliant, beautiful Autumn haze
I know Fridays spent alone and solitary Sundays
I’ll only respect you if you participate in the chase
And God, I love it when you try to plead your case
You lost the bet
The cops know you
You think you get me, but I don’t believe that’s true
You’re only with her because there’s nothing else to do

Playing with marbles on the carpet, so they don’t roll too far away
I don’t have the time
I’ve lost my own place
But I clean up nice and live my life with grace

You’re lucky I won’t let you see me face-to-face
You won’t forget my brutality for several days
It’s my milk white gentleness that you can’t replace
I used to tell you I love you, but now I’ll rephrase

The kind of girl you wish you had for the holidays
The kind of girl you wish you had for the holidays
The kind of girl you wish you had for the holidays
As vital to the body as acetylcholinesterase

It’s my resilient nature that will get me through this phase
I used to tell you I love you, but now I’ll rephrase

Lilac Dove

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

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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: The ones I love die

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I’m getting better at glamorizing myself
I like my safety pins and textbooks neat on the shelf
Can I have your permission to be ambivalent
About my whereabouts?
Don’t ask me why
Don’t ask me why
Don’t tell me not to cry
Don’t tell me not to cry
If God is mean and bad, then that makes sense
Why does he let the ones I love die
Why does he let the ones I love die
Don’t tell me why

Don’t ask me why
Don’t ask me why
Don’t tell me not to cry
Don’t tell me not to cry

Well, I met with your father at the café
We talked about you, pretty much the entire day
He said how you’ll have it is how you’ll have your own way
I’m too left
I’m too left
Toughen up
Toughen up
Decay is pressed petals and sorrow intertwined within one membrane
The words just spill onto the pages
I’m not even thinking as I’m writing, maybe

Collapse onto me, I swear to god, I’ll let you love me
Don’t suck your thumb at me
Roses and thorns, yeah, roses and thorns
Roses and thorns, yeah, roses and thorns
I like the way you cross your eyes
Yeah, I only really hang out with guys
Since my best girl friend hung herself out to dry

I’m not even thinking as I’m writing, maybe
The words just spill onto the pages
The words just spill onto the pages
The words just spill onto the pages
The words just spill onto the pages

Poem: James Davies

distantcave2 Comments

When I threw away the dying white roses you bought for me
I almost cried myself to death
When I touched the petals
(They were so soft)
Like me
Untouched
Delicate
You robbed me of my own sanity
And it got so fucked I broke away from reality

You robbed me of my own sanity

Take your medication, baby, please don’t stop
Taking your medication
I care so much for you that my heart keeps breaking
Because you’re not next to me in bed and I can’t fall asleep because I’m shaking
I’m so afraid of you
But I’m more afraid of what I’m going to do without you
Do you have any idea how much I love you?

Sweet river beds
I leaned against your car smoking like I’m from Tennessee
And you weren’t even man enough to comfort me
You like to call it “enabling”
But a girl crying over you will only stop crying when you touch her
Hold her like it’s your last day alive
And you know the last memories are the memories we keep
But all I can think of is you screaming at me
You were screaming at me
But you said you were in love with me

You robbed me of my own sanity
But it was only because I was too insane to see
You weren’t good for me
You weren’t good for me
James Davies
You were never my safety

I’m so helpless, it’s scary

Though I know Monday morning I’ll wake up
Sipping my L-theanine-filled green tea in my Moscow teacup
I won’t text you
Won’t say wassup
Because you and I are no longer
Babe, I hope you take a seat and ponder

How weak you made me

Tears cover my cheekbones
I can barely read these pages
Felt I’d love you for ages
But you tested my patience

How weak you made me
This is what became of me

How weak you made me