I Know You Hate Me Now But...I Know You Hate Me Now But...:Just give me a chance alright, I'll explainTo me, you're the girl that I notice everything about.The way you laugh, the way you smile;We got along great back then, even if we don't now.And to be honest, I miss that...You had the most lovely silky smooth hairYou'd give me the cutest anime girl smileI wish I'd talked to you more about Manga,Hell you got me started on the whole thing.You were fantastic at drawing tooMan I was always jealous of that talent,And I loved your drawings, like I once loved you.I wish that you could have been a professional.I would have bought your book every month y'know...You encouraged me to write.Back when my stories were shit,Back when my poems were still baby's rhymes.You taught me not to give in and I was grateful.Now just let me finish alright?I know that you won't speak to me.That's okay, I admit to being an ass,But the reason that I'm writing this poem to nobod
Throwback ThursdayYou know what I miss?The simple daysof aimless buses and trains,like magic carpetsthat helped us to escape,if only for a little while.I miss the endless walksthat led to hours ofstrip mall shenanigans--spinning in desk chairs,petting that little blind kitten,and reading anythingfrom cheesy joke booksto Frost's melancholic verse.I miss cheap deli lunches,discounted coffee house milkshakes, andmidnight conversations on the swingsat your old elementary school,with the moon so bright thatI could see your T-shirt.Remember that time when, hot chocolate in hand,we followed the soundof live fiesta musicsailing on the hollow winter airuntil we nearly crasheda Hispanic family's party?Or what about the momentsof heartbroken silencewhen we discoveredthe ruins of a pianoat the churchthat was once your daycare?I remember climbing, barefoot,halfway up Ricky's fenceto watch his illegal fireworksand stealing Mom's carin the dead of night,just for store-bought Chines
What is Love?What is Love?:What is love but a simple impulseAn electrical signal that comes from the brain.What is love but a debilitating sicknessIt weakens us utterly from the waves of pain.To what do we owe the pleasure of loveDoes it come from a matter of personal taste?To what do we owe the pain of loveAs though all of our efforts are put to waste...Why do we seek to fall in loveIs it because we fear a death alone?Or perhaps there is a darker reasonOne for which we need to atone...Rationalise carefully, your reason for lovePerhaps the truth is deeper than you think.Is your partner a genuine object of affectionOr simply a piece of the missing link?Love can be a wonderous anchorIt brings us down to the safety of sanityBut abuse it once, and you will sufferSuch is the gift of humanity..."Yet even with these weighty words, I am still a slave to love..."-Chen Yuan Wen, 25th April 2012
list for ninth october1) your lover is dead andyou burn the eggs. greasestreaks the stove. yousit, stand, switch offthe burner. sit.the birds chirp. sit.2) your lover is dead andthe birds are hungry:the blue-jay funerealblue, mockingbirdsick ocean grey.you shore yourselfagainst the bare mattress,empty mason jars, yourmother's phone calls,bestsellers commendedby desk receptionists.the author's namedwarfs the title,that means it's good.that means it's popular.you spill teaand soak its pagesand sit. sit.3) your lover is dead andthe tea is cold.the leaves have settledin rorschach patterns.the tea is hot:when it's poured.when you walk away.you open your mouth.close it.4) your lover is dead andyou can learn no morelanguages. dust sheaveson books, in sunroom-motes.half-eight, you feed the cat.she scratches the door.you say nothing:5) your lover is dead andyou've fallen asleep.your lover is dead and6) you know that mockingbird don't singwe never had no diamond rings
BIRDIf I regret anything, it is the reticence of birds--my reticence, the uncertainty of the word "today,"which rusts like the flute before Judith one.If there is a time to undress, it is now,but my thoughts close in on me, like a tunnel,and I lose sight of everything except the wind.Beneath it all, my hollow bonesare icy blue, each joy expunged--I feel it keenly, here, and there.
wilted petals on bedsheets and bathrobesi was full offlowers, once.soft blossoms and awild, arcing sky thatwould have takenyour breath away.but now i amwatching thepetals of myskin swirldown the drainand thinkingabout howmy depressionis a bodilypesticide,slowly stuntingall kinds of growthuntil finally,nothing tries togrow anymore.
give me a reason to stayI need more from youthan two lips parted;hungry hands scrabblingat my sides.I need your limbstwined around myhopes and dreams -I need your fingersclutching for my soul.
abstracts and equationsi.our introduction was a hushed symphony composed fromarithmetic means; a blush was coloring your cheeks whilei told you that my lips plus yours multiplied by time couldequal something greater than everything we've dreamed ofii.i sketched euclidian geometry with my lips into the hollowsbetween your ribs; your head began to swim and your pulse racedwhile i proved that the matching sides and included anglesof our hearts coerced and shaped them into congruent figuresiii.we sprawled out on your covers and held protractors to ourbones; you carved a compass into your skin and measured thesine cosine secant of your collarbones as my fingers stretchedthemselves into independent vectors that lay tangent to youiv.during free evenings you worried about the ever-expanding universewhile i worried that it would cease to expand; the limit of us as ourintegral approaches racing heartbeats and falling in love is beginningto suspiciously resemble forever and the derivative of space an
things you find in a newspaperi'll admit it:i killed you.but i couldn't help it, i swear!it was dark, and you weren'twearing any clothes, and wewere making lovefit in a crosswordpuzzle, like how ifit my keys in yourglove department.how i fit my heartin your ribcage, orhow my hips fit inyours, or how youfit in my bedsheetslike some inflamedcontortionist, yourhands tied behindmy back.i ricocheted off your leg;you figured out 8-down:what's a six-letter wordfor 'a result of adultery'you thought babies,i thought murdermy ink mouth said:"put down the pen.draw constellationson some other boy'sfreckles,because mineare not stars.because mineare not brightand pretty, sodon't expect your wishesto come true tonight, nortomorrow, nor friday, norwhen i'm dead, nor ever.notice the difference betweenunder covers and undercover.notice the difference betweenlying to me and lying with him.notice the difference betweensex, passion, and two-across.notice the difference b
Waking NightmareYeah ummm... The Poetry is the picture... Sorry Nothing to see here in the box...