| i have a lot. |


like an artistYoure one of those people who sketch out a map to paradise and then feed it to the hungry maw of their paper shredders just because they feel lost today.like an artist
Ill make you believe in a tomorrow and then well hack our way out of the jungle when the sun comes up.
Youre like a goddess whose mirror is blurred, and unable to recognize the strange-faced beauty shining back, you throw it away. Did you know that the canvas of the Mona Lisa was painted with several other portraits before the last? And do you think Leonardo ever regretted covering them up?
Youre like an artist with t


three a.m.She feels like shes bled the pacific into existence Built an empire of scars, Chased a nation of ghosts. How many more breaths will chill her tired lungs? The city burns itself into a stuporthree a.m.
Of heroin and everclear and sexual tension And the sun wont rise for another two hours.


magnet phrasessome steel may blush or bleed and never know fire.magnet phrases
we wake up as wild and young as a blind baby universe
cloudy cake and warm coffee sex she is my ferocious caramel girl: an eternity of dance
you worry life's not yet giving you joy but desire to live haunts your fever breath- we will die like brilliant pierced glass windows
she is born with two dazzlingly translucent hearts but those softly blazing liquid secrets stream over broken bone
the man said he fooled angels he must smoke a magic grass make one more sacred circle linger
I


little thingsa. Sometimes I just sitlittle things
without breathing,
without breaking and try to hold my bones in.
My cerebrum becomes symmetrical,
I agree with myself to hold onto that empty space
where somethings missing among my organs.
No, let it go.
Wait, hold on!
Sometimes I disappear, and theres someone else looking in the mirror.
b. Sometimes I lie on the tile floor next to the bathtub
and turn up the bass of the stereo until
I cant hear myself screaming the words. There are
some days where I wear dresses,
and others where I swi


Lost.Im just throwing daggers at stars. Trying to pin them down so that I might count the fibers that make them glow, the sediment that flakes off and dusts moon-pale fingers. And if the stars bleed, I plead to know what makes them dance. To find the joy of them squirming beneath inquiring hands. Oh, how I ache to know what I search for.Lost.
(In the stars, in the stars.) Im just tossing cable at the moon.
Just so I can cradle it, tear it apart so that it crumbles and falls around me. I want to bathe in the milky light of it,


because i love you.listen, just for a few minutes.because i love you.
take a few deep breaths [even if you don't want to breathe anymore]. listen to the pitter-patter of your heart beating in your ears and feel your pulse racing. taste the silence of the world; see the anxiety take over you.
close your eyes and look at the black. look at the black until you see something worth holding onto inside of yourself. wait until breathing doesn't feel like a losing game and then open your eyes,
and listen.
.
look, you
are wonderful. you remind me of a lullaby in winter, sung like a secret not meant for anyone to


the art of losingdon't forget those days, when our troubles would disintegrate in our hands like wet tissues. we'd scrape by on late night and broken-bottle breath, chai tea with skim milk and nine splenda, just becausethe art of losing
we could. we were the type forever reminded We Are Imperfect, although sometimes we slipped and called it happiness. but really, we told each other as we perched on that treacherous fringe of abnormal, would we ever want to give up our frenzied rush towards a
Great Perhaps, our postsecrets and midnight phone calls, mad days of laughter, high as the egg-yolk sun and stumbling o
| i have a lot. |
--
This has got to be the best signature ever
--
Like a pheonix we can rise from these ashes and be born again into a new life. The past will die and fall away, but the future is always there.
--
Love is the Movement. | Note me your poetry suggestions for *DailyLitDeviations! | Have you seen today's *DailyDeviants? | Last Night on Earth
--
Love is the Movement. | Note me your poetry suggestions for *DailyLitDeviations! | Have you seen today's *DailyDeviants? | Last Night on Earth
--
--Flawed_Work_Of_Art--
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome...
--
[kmw]
as it was meant to be - bokonon (vonnegut's cat's cradle)
--
"He not busy being born is busy dying." -Zimmerman
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