Who am I Today?

Chalk

Chalk figures with skin so orange and pink

And hair blacker than widows

I am cautious of what i touch

with these dirty hands

Only the best intentions

And speculating what is above

Fog is a mask for when the simulation is buffering,

Covering up tasks of higher powers

I become sad when i run out of paper

And when i balance pebbles larger than my chalk

May night 

As i watched the dance

I mimicked the technicality

The best i could

While rope burned my delicate wrists

And my lungs filled with mold

My hair was wet so the room flooded quickly

the crowd screamed for the acrobatics and

Some shadow figure in the corner mocked me

Source Unknown

Little one

On the day I died I thought of you,

Past self

Little Girl Forever

Unknown, Still unknown, Lost and

Left behind

Childhood doesn't last

How do you want me? From behind or on my knees?

Bad girl looking for a rich man

Black Swan and

Fantasizing about things I shouldn't have been

Rainbow hearts, Cartoons and

Flushed cheeks

Risk in uncertainty

Profiting off submissiveness and

Getting caught

“I am still blazing in my golden hell”

The bliss of solitude and

Wanting to be choked

Zombie girls in princess dresses

Gold tooth Cupid

I am so much more than they told me I was

Church socks and

Spanking and

Red lipstick and

Calling them daddy and

Lollipops and

The color pink all trigger me

I was taken advantage of and blinded by

Cherries and

Choker necklaces and

A singular cigarette on a plate and

Lacey lingerie that I shouldn't have been wearing

Call my past self “sweetie” or “baby girl” and she will do unthinkable things

Braces, smiley faces and

the romanticization of unhealthy relationships

Teddy bears

Pink rope

Holding hands

Filth

Unicorns

If I seem strange it's because I am

Terrifying, strange and beautiful

Something not everyone can love

I used to think I was a mermaid

And I used to think being loved was being violated

Do angels with filthy souls still go to heaven?

Source Unknown 

Sad night so I must write. Most of my stuff feels like word vomit but i like pretty words.

Why do we choose to be sad? Did you ever see a sad butterfly?

She doesn't believe in heaven or hell

She doesn't belong anywhere

Some call her doll face of deception

American boy, guardian angel

Making up people in your head that

You could never be

Childlike innocence

“I was a tender object living in your house”

Real life teenage girl with

Low self-esteem and

Questionable morals

You are an angel,

Beware of those who collect feathers

You wonder if “keep me safe” are her only words

I don't wanna feel blue anymore

Always wanted to feel like a muted pink

Wanting only to see life through a pink lens

Hazy and

Soft and

Dreamy

Source Unknown

Rose, Cinnamon, Ebonywood, Santal

Like an empty bottle of perfume,

Or a candle burned to the glass

Your scent no longer lingers

Your present is memories of your past

You no longer provide what you used to,

You're empty, no longer useful

You used to be touched every day

Now you are empty

Soon to be thrown away

Di Calder

Hold me, Hold me

Hold me, hold me

I feel like an infant

Waiting for parental guidance although

I'll never find it

At least I have you, though

You're the one who taught me how to care

Cause I had to,

It was natural

You're my king

Hold me, hold me

Sweet Prince

Let me give you a goodnight kiss

On the lips?

Your neck?

I know you like that..

You can't fight that

Sweet love, I always want to give you

I always want to be near you

Hold me, hold me

Until the night is over over

And then we can wish it wasn't, together

I miss your skin and your hair

I miss your eyes and their stare

Hold me, hold me

When I cry

You always do,

I don't know why

I'm such a cry baby,

Get sad over nothing

Hold me, hold me 

Bring back my smile

Its there for a second then gone for a while

Hold me, hold me

I wish you could

My bones! they're aching!

I don't feel good!

Benjamin Phillips

When “Home” Felt Like “Hell” 

High fructose corn syrup

Pans that have been used one million times

Thrift store kitchen table

Must. be. Stable.

Crying dog

Carpet laid in garage

Peeking out broken windows

Piano which resembles my insides

Silent keys feel like burnt lungs

Half-full bar

Another thrift store table

Dirty pillowcases in bags

And dirty socks, too

Creaking staircase

Condensation on window

Mold in mason jars

Hand-me-down mattress

Blue tile that would be nice if it were anywhere but here

Hair clogged drain

Rotten fruit

Religious bullshit

Bleach next to tampons

Cashmere room spray

The sound of box fans has never gone away

Childhood photos where you will find

Forced smiles and invisible chains

Hiding under blankets

Mint

And

Creme brulee

Sisters new nicotine addiction

You are the star of your own show!

Homelessness

My heart breaks for the one I love

Nowhere to go

Clothes in boxes

Grandma's house

Friends couch

I know it all too well

Photo by Bunny Kinney

Sloane

The feeling of a freshly washed face

Lit cigarette

And

Clean fingernails

Banana cream pie

Witches don't need to eat

Leopard People, 1966 by Larry C. Morris

Drip

I taste

Masked Face

What's going on inside that head of yours?

Self-deprecating thoughts, I'm sure

I just want to love you

Why won't you hold me?

Why won't you love me?

Kenne Fregoire.

Amor

The story of creation

Starts with two faces

I heard recently that

You break rules when you’re in love.

The story of creation

Begins with love and broken rules

Determined lovers

Now belonging to the world

Source of photo unknown.

Ringleader

Calling shots

Not fooling me

Trying to mask selfishness with empathy

Fake plans and false hope

Plans of congregation were just a show

Ami, Amigo, Friend

Throw them away till the end

Quirky computer aficionado

Spoke of suicide and drug addiction

Fear of authority crept in

Lost trust, and time

Spent reflecting on self-destructive mind

They were begging for liberation but were forcefully confined

Questioned, made a fool of

Ring leaders really only listen to themselves

Is your sleep better now that your problem is on the shelf?

Nobody bothered to feed the spiraling mind

“Do you know how i'd feel if-”

“Id have to leave if you did this...”

I'm just saying that,

I wouldn't have done that,

But I've never been a ringleader

Photo by Ben Toms.

Dance, Dance

Wednesday Afternoon when she found herself

Out of comfort zones with her

Legs barely exposed she sat through

Abundant laughter too loud to hum over

She sits

Upright in a wooden chair

Uniform, structure, discipline

Wanting only to be center field imagining her

Body fluid, expressing feelings impossible to articulate her

Untraditional clothes allow for untraditional movements she is 

Untrained, untamed, loose

Dance, woman!

Allow cold air to infiltrate your lungs you will find that

Body bends and ears listen to creatures whispers she is 

Aching to be alone so her empty body can be fed by that which floods from her mind this

Sentient being becomes freed as she begins to eat she is

Moved by the sound of truth spoken

Raw emotions trigger motions that space as confining does not permit she begins to

Make connections in reflections where blue skies are inviting this 

Green stage lays lonely waiting for the main act, one-woman show a

Magnificent self-expression desperately crying out her 

Obsession with the sun and time wasted on unhealthy habits shes been

More inclined to submit to physical pleasures prescribed

Than to listen to what really troubles her mind she is 

Unable to explain the understood

A very real disconnect between mind and body habitual 

Fear of judgment and self-awareness she must

Find pleasure in letting the body speak for itself

Who are you to ignore the chants clawing, ripping through flesh its  a 

Form of possession, the physical expression found within every aching drop to the ground

Each time self is lost, her eyes rolled back

Sexual pleasure, addictive stimulation actualized with each kick and bent knee

Spell-like dances in front of dirty mirrors where it all started

Years later she is found intoxicated,

Lost in crowded spaces her

Exterior now speaking those internal truths she chants

Fuck fighting yourself and all false prophecy, hypocrisy and mothers mockery

Find then that wings can spread to full capacity

No more shade-seeking or lie speaking girl, 

The sun wants to see your skin unrestricted, disturbing spaces with strong conviction

To the sound of truths so intoxicating

Self-portrait by Marianne Breslauer.

Woman

My one wish is that I touch someone's heart one day

“You’ve never seen a girl like her”

She is the scent of tobac and ebony wood

Innocence has a scent?

Her pheromones enchant you

You’re under her spell

“Cold warm days are beautiful,” she says 

The taste of cherries on her tongue and lips

I remember your soft stroke on my hips

She is not intimidated by her divine nature

From your lips, she conjured the words “I love you”

Her influence swells within you 

She douses her skin with daisies and magic water while

Dancing with hot wax

Burning the rose to its core

Discomfort in her home space

Analyzing disapproving faces

Flowing through polluted spaces

Blessing all with her grace and gazes

She no longer fears who she is  

Beauty queen without your deduction

She allows you to see and she won't be punished

No competition could jade her vision

She unlocks doors to worlds

With visions of warm skin and white teeth

Detox

Find yourself enheartened by she who won't be silenced

She will always be a work in progress

Hard to please

you find yourself below her favorite tree

Guilty conscience too heavy for your bloody knees

Never meant to hurt a creature as precious

Drag yourself to her alter and prepare for the blessing

She does not know forgotten lovers remorse

Empty stomach

Yet with her taste on your tongue, you are completely nourished

She is fragile like fairy wings

Yet seems to endure everything

Pains from her insides

Reflect her past lives trauma

Stuck in a room

Air thick with perfume and drama

Imaginary friends, sleepy pills and shaving for the first time

Wishing she could have had a sign

Repeat: feeling is not a crime

Once she believed this there were two lovers intertwined

two full hearts combined

Her magic works that fast

Like when she tells you to relax

Wandering home to

The curious creature

Tiny things like a vintage matchbox and perished petals

Satisfy the one she is learning to champion,

Herself

Photo by Wilhelm Von Gloeden

What I Saw One Day Made Me Think

Found what you were looking for?

Innocence lost

Prima

The best of everything

Sunkist 3107

Keep away from children

Safer sex je pro kazdeho

Hubba Bubba

Instant camera

Precise

Pilot

Guaranteed pure English honey

Magic oil ⅛ oz. E 3.7mL

Bouquet de camilias narcisses et pensées

Victor

Photo by Holly Lynton. 

I have a crush on happiness but it doesn't know my name...

Days that feel like dreams are so distant

Ecstasy is like an ancestor

Whose footprint has faded completely

Now walking, creating new footsteps

Far less impressive

All territories claimed and

There is no room for old friends like blinding happiness,

It seems

What sights are too much?

The lust for light,

Light that reflects colors only visible in dreams

Why?

Remembering warmth and teasing angels

Abstracted visions of glitter

Kind of like one of those toys

Water wigglies

Surely, this feeling will return

“Eternal recurrence of the same”

I dreamt once of ovals

Egg-like shapes were sanctuaries

Fetal position and algorithmic umbilical cords

Keeping me afloat in cyberspace

Sounds that personify the anticipation of waiting

That was paradise

Inchworm green

Unlearning “im sorry”

That is paradise

Reflection does not mean that hope is lost,

“Madame”