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fingernailsfingernails have stories. attached
to the phalange. attached to palm.

  
thumbs mean good things
but the lonely index is like a toddler
   
          [choose me. point. pick me. point
      it was him. it was her. point. jab. kill]

--

caress with palm [bump. by bump. by crinkle]
    scrape up the excess drippy-drop dead
    constantly dragging over the cheeks.

such high. high cheeks. like a movie star
[sucked out. hollow. no-lunch-for-you dreamer]

she's really a model without the paint thinn
pumpkins, pogo-sticks, and lip-to-lip
dear october.

the leaves haven't fallen yet.
maybe this year, they will not.
i am sick of things dying prettier than they live.

i am walking streets full of dead carcasses
and making sure to step on them to feel the bones crack
beneath my feet and it makes me feel powerful
and alive and deadly and beautiful.

i am three months away from january
and my unfulfilled new year's resolution is still
sitting heavily on my collarbone, trickling down my ribs
melting into the soles of my shoes.

last year, i celebrated the new year in my friend's friend's apartment
in india and two minutes after the countdown was over,
people set off fire
Call Girlshe stayed
    for a moment

with an arm
draped over by the shadow of a curtain
a dress folded in a half
in the crook of an elbow

     one of her cheek twitches

you touch her empty mouth
tangled up beneath the covers
her lipstick gets under your skin
a nerve irritated by the shape of a lace

half an hour tops not longer
you kiss her onto the lips eventually
jamming a tongue up the tonsils

      in the end a whore is just a whore
rate of firethe sight
of the black and white
parked in the loading zone

gives me a moment of panic.

The average human
can cover 12 feet per second

and it's at least
300 to your classroom.
flowers and rainI don't deserve the way you comb my hair on rainy days
To braid in flowers to make up for the gloomy weather.
I say "mother, I love the rain, and the thunder and lightning
Don't scare me,  they protect me from the silence that threatens
To swallow me whole." but my mother only shakes her head and
Smiles at me as if I am a naïve little child who wears rose colored
Contacts that can show you the sun even while sleeping under blankets
Of clouds, and that's when I thought that what she was doing was for herself.
She was in another universe while she turned my straw like hair into gold,
Immersing herself in a good memory for every f
1 am fantasythe morning is totally black with frozen paint,

and

there is black-blue frost branching over her milky skin,
that creaks softly as it forms,

that runs like a helmet down her nose,
like curling tattoos around her eyes,
like inky fingers down her neck,

and she is hooked by sky-cold silver,
through her nose and eyebrow,
that tastes like ice when tongues run over it,
that tastes like the way the stars look,

and she would look at you like a star looks,
with something endless and sparking with ice,
with leather boots scuffed because she doesn't care,
with colorful shoe-laces and muscled arms,

and behind her back they flex,
they fill
she breathed out happy endings
she pressed herself between the pages of her favorite storybook
until her veins began to bleed ink. with her head in the clouds,
she wasn't sure of where she was and didn't much care as long as
it wasn't here.
blue and gold are not just colorsshe had been blue-sighted
since
dawn cracked her forehead.
it was the dress she wore on his funeral
the color of her school flag
the shine in her father's eyes;
she waited in blue and gold.

no, she refused to set a bar
because
life didn't just come to her.
she earned her place
in her mother's womb
when each blood vessel questioned her
each nerve ending, if she could live
and each antibody, if she was worth it.

see, she doesn't need new dresses.
she has a memory
for each of hers in her locked closet.
she may not wear all of them
(and most she cringes at the sight of)
but her heart
jumps enough
every time bits of her old
thunderclapCan I be the thunderclap tickle plucking scales
down the stringed column of your
sweet vertebrae?

I would shake the nerves,crack them open
and feast upon the monster texture
that makes a human pinch their eyes tight.

those careless t-storms can make
the most hard-boned devil wail
in the brief nuance of energy bursts.

[the initial heat expansion from  soft
crackling lights leaves the threads
of your flesh prickled with anticipation]

And I want to do that to you--
weave through the tender wires, twirl
currents into the weepy slope of you.

you would love it

(love. it. ) (love. it.)

love me?
Inevitability ClauseYour sister tells me
we do it for the medication—

as if I don't look at
the knives in the kitchen
every day like solace
& say
no, not today.

As if I enjoy every time
I've been too tinny tiny
or monstrously stretched
inside this house of cards—

brushing against one
at just the wrong angle
& my sanity falling down

in red & black stains.

As if I don't wish
to have an equilibrium
that can withstand
the images in the trees

& how when I look in the mirror
there is a little girl
staring back at me—

waiting for her turn
to be special

in the hot air balloon
of my left iris

as I wait for my turn
to bury these
lipstick-stained collars the one-of-a-kind
look you shoot
has been duplicated
far too many
times to count.

your eyes must
be made of glass,
the way they
wander so freely
in your sockets.

it's unimaginable
to think that those
callouses on your palms
are the result of work,
instead of your infidelity.

the sickening
scent of your
scandalous second-life
has stained
our love.

it's ridiculous
to expect honesty
from a snake,
or forgiveness
from a shrew.
-selfless-slipping from the sky
one lonely star
grants its last wish
intersectionMy father's hair is gray now.
I'm not sure if it was the elevator
or that realization that caused
the lurch in my belly.

There's a little plastic container
on the bathroom counter, housing
blue, yellow, beige pills, designed
to slow the body's inevitable breakdown.

There are lines around my father's eyes now -
I feel his loneliness echoed in my chest,
in the mirror as I prepare for bed.

A blurry, half-remembered moment,
smudged with time, of sitting on his strong
shoulders, laughing in the sun,
so sure that he would always be able
to hold me up to touch the sky.

We live this half-baked life now,
circling each other, moments
judgementif you could see the bulletholes,
the brittle bones,

or if you could see me on a saturday,
with a cigarette between my lips,

a handwritten note clenched
in one fist, that contains
only a single word

goodbye

would you still smile
when you saw me on your porch
sunday morning?
The Jailori. 

the room smelled of paint and chocolate;
a stain that won’t wash out no matter how vigorously you grate,
no matter how deeply you peel.
 
 
 

ii.

“Mothers never cry when their boys run towards large army tanks, and fishermen never weep when they return home with nothing.” These were my forced whispers in her ear.
 
 

 
iii.
 
ticking antiques and wooden furnishing,
a land flowing with silk and money.
it was no consolation.
pain still trickled through.

 

iv.
 
I told her that I don’t kiss women on the mouth, and by day I left her to her own thoughts. That’s when she finally listened and stopped her c
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More from ~Unseen-reality

mount rushmore eyesit's one in the morning and
you're
the first face that's
etched
into my eyelids

my eyes are mount rushmore
and all the
tourists are photographing
my crevices
my cracks
(they hate me)

"you have such beautiful
eyes,"
miss,
you don't really think
my rusty soul
is
beautiful,
it's musty and filthy
and
your hands are foreign
to me.

i don't even know if
i have
feelings
anymore,
my soul is empty with little
visitors
who tell me that
mother doesn't
love
me.
drowned by the tidehe had pastel cheeks and thin bones the
color of serotonin,

and

his hands had white callouses that bled
while he slept,
and sometimes when he awoke his lips
whispered of the hushed fluorescent
moon.

when he spoke his voice was as distilled
as a calm ocean tide,
and i wanted to be one of those swimmers to
drown myself in his tremendous
depths.
drunken sinners1.

the sky had bled introverted colors of
reds and purples,
like some drunken painter had decided to
declare his independence.

2.

you kissed her pale pink lips,
and i thought about why you'd love such a
homesick murmur.

3.

the liquor was golden and gleaming
in your rusty
hands,
and your voice after you drank a glass
was grunge and grey and
you were different afterwards.
like someone had lacerated out your heart
from your chest and left it beating in my
hands.

4.

you were combing through the bible like
an unread diary,
and i could see jesus's disapproving face from your
unshaven chin.

5.
you were sinning and
you were also adam
002you're naked and resilient,
and
i'm the liquor in between
your unbrushed teeth.
catholicshe was
skeleton hands
and tiny red wrists
with blonde hair and
a scandinavian
flair.

someday the red speckled
poppies
would bloom for her,
they would bleed
their red dresses
for her.

but

her ribs were poking
through her shirt,
and her thighs distanced
themselves
as if they were recently
divorced.

at 16,
she was bathing in her
own salty tears,
hair limp and
quietly
weeping.

the white echoes
of the wallpaper
burned the back of her
eyes,
and soon she would be
limp
herself.

calories were sins,
and she was catholic.
red cocktail dressesyou remind me of those women,
the ones with curled eyelashes and thick
eyeliner
and
tight red cocktail dresses,
who
look up at boys
with pale moon eyes.

but

my dreams are shrouded in white fumes
of last year's chemical reaction,
and i wish my hands would
stop
trembling.

so

when i listen to the rustling
city,
its hustling clocks
and yellow cabs,
i wonder if you still love me,
the way we should
love one another,
but only sinners shed
tears.

i wonder how long you've lied
for me,
because my seams are opening,
and my pulse is
beating.

and i'm worried
i'll be one of those women,
drowning in their
cocktail dres

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September 20, 2012
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[x]

i want you like no one else should

:iconunseen-reality:

i want you.
and those words purge
from my lips
like fluorescent moonbeams.

swollen eyes
are darker than they seem
and something was different
in the way you
looked
at me.

it's been a year or so
but the hymns of the air
conditioner
are painless.

and my tank top
is hinging onto your
collar bones
but i don't know
if the melody is on
key.

and ash is spilling
from your lips
even though your
mother
told you smoking is
a breeding ground for
cancer.

will your skeleton hands
smoke me?
:iconunseen-reality:
here we go, romance time! *insert eye roll here*
C;
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:iconhalcyonshores:
*halcyonshores May 10, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Intriguing write with some wonderful line breaks.
Congrats on the DLD feature :rose:
Reply
:iconunseen-reality:
~Unseen-reality May 11, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
thank you so much lovely! :heart:
Reply
:iconhalcyonshores:
*halcyonshores May 13, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
You are so very welcome. :iconmypleasure:
Reply
:iconslowslicksnails:
=slowslicksnails Feb 22, 2013  Student Writer
This is absolutely amazing. I've never read anything quite like this before...it's so interesting! I particularly like stanzas 5 and 6 because they go so well together and they stood out the most to me. This is just one great, amazing poem. Keep up the great work! :)
Reply
:iconunseen-reality:
~Unseen-reality Feb 23, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
wow, thank you so so much! :heart:
Reply
:iconslowslicksnails:
=slowslicksnails Feb 23, 2013  Student Writer
You're welcome! :)
Reply
:iconbloodawni:
*bloodawni Feb 6, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Congratulations on a well-deserved DLD!

I liked this, but I'm a little uncertain about the enjambment here -- "but the hymns of the air / conditioner / are painless". Is there a particular emphasis on "conditioner" for a reason? If not, I'd recommend reworking that section a little bit as it seems to confuse things.


I'm in love with the 5th and 6th stanzas in particular, they just read so smoothly.
Reply
:iconunseen-reality:
~Unseen-reality Feb 8, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
alright, i understand your criticism. for the time being i'll leave it the way it is, because it gives some sort of casual feel to the poem. but i appreciate your words, thank you! :heart:
Reply
:iconbloodawni:
*bloodawni Feb 8, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome. :)

And... no worries, I don't expect people to run and change their work just because of my comments -- it's your work, it's much more important for you to weigh up my thoughts against your intentions etc on the poem, and general public view. :)
Reply
:iconxlntwtch:
*xlntwtch Feb 3, 2013   Writer
Oh, and congratulations on the DLD feature! :icondownarrowplz:
Reply
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