[x]

Salty Meth WoundsMy heart is elastic, a rubber ball slamming against my sternum.
My heart smokes meth, caustic crystals invigorating muscle.
I am an addict.
I couldn't forget the taste, the very essence of metal against epidermis.
That delectable ooze, strawberries and fire.
Rivulets; rubies glimmering.
My blood is thin, watered-down, salty.
Always salty.
My blood is ill, sickened by malnutrition and overcome with anemia.

I am cancerous, addicted to meth, malnutrition and self-mutilation.
I could never forget the feel, the fires of self-indulgence.
The strawbe

WelcomeI'm ready for a romance to ravage my heart and tear apart my
dusty limbs, I'm waiting for someone to take my breath and
never give it back; I'm prepared to sell all I was for a trip
somewhere new - beyond the paper mistakes I sailed away
down the river long ago. (even rocks and leaden thoughts
won't let the truth sink.)

I left my being somewhere under a waning summer sun
when the trees hummed melodies of moving on;
my soul still stays there, porous and pining and
lost. Dying stars don't lead home.

I suppose
it's more than just losing
your words, it's losing
you

too.

I am someone who mourns Sunday morning for another lost
w

Insomnia and Body PartsThere were
Timeless moments spent between us,
In those instants and hours before dawn;

That time when we traversed
So far away from this
Wretched house and into
The most delicious darkness
Of Andromeda-

That time before our tidal waves
Came crashing down on us again.

I would do anything to
Drown with you.

The softness of the flesh
Between your knuckles, the
Exquisite map of
Leigh-lines
On your palms;

They were like a lullaby
To my sleepy fingertips.

You used
The breath of your mouth
To teach me to close my eyes
And fall asleep.

Your contented whispers and
Observations of the sky
Showed me then how to dream.

I had no id

Happy New Year, loveSuddenly, the nights seem to end so much quicker and the days just keep dragging onto forever. Futility overcomes me as I continue being spread too thin and snap. I am caught in these moments where I finally forget all the rules, all that need not- cannot be spoken, and capsize under the bludgeoning weight of your smoldering stare. Don't you dare; my body is drenched in crude kerosene holding a matchbox in one hand and a single stick in the other, waiting on your signal to strike. 12 seconds are all I need to grab you by the shoulders, push you against a wall, unbuckle your calm and composure, wrinkle away your wry smile, place my hand upon y

MCitR: Bright Lights, Big CityOnce, he supposes, cities lit up at night.

He's seen the pictures. Nyok, back before it all came down, every street and house and skyscraper blazing like a torch. Svega, all neon signs and light-up billboards a mile long, more like a fever-dream than anywhere anyone'd actually go to. Lun-over-the-sea, with the Circle lit all round the rim like a targeting reticle. Cuver, Aussin, Scow, you look hard enough and you'll find pictures of 'em all, each as bright and shiny as if they'd had a hundred thousand base-generators powering 'em up.

Nice bright shiny targets, the way he sees it. Not as if there weren't wars back then, either - hell, they'd

StringLife is like a string -

Wired around empty matter,
Tying what you love most together,
Swayed by the fragile dust and wind,

Until approached by scissors.

Never Let You GoNever let you go, I'll always be there for you.
To always catch you when you fall, Keep you safe.
To always hold you, keep you warm.
You make me feel needed and alive.
If I had the chance, I'd marry you in a heartbeat.
I love you with all of my heart, I know you do as well.
You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me.
As long as I'm alive, I will never let you go, I will be there for you.
I will forever be yours, because there has never been anyone like you before.

liberationwill you be my
declaration of
independence?
wrap your words around
me and send them off
to war?
whisper freedom
to my bones
paint your flag
across my tongue

i want to see
the patriots in your eyes
creep into my
loyalist heart

DionysusGasping, struggling to hold
the boundary between thought and being
I push
and cry as particles collide into
a hand
a foot
soon they will die
I scream into the macrocosm of
the void
and the people hear
in their sleep
waking in their own sweat-soaked beds
and grasp for my words
blurred in their minds
formed only on canvas
an epidural of ink and pigmentation
I push the prodigal child-
Dionysus is born.

admittance is defeatthey called you beautiful

with porcelain eyes about to crack
and cigarette skin crumbling
away, a knotted spine and
jagged smile:

you were never gracious.

you're slipping underneath, this
virulent smog masks a paper sky that
never allowed a dream and

you're afraid because it's soaking in
your pores again, unattainable and unoriginal;
the meaning of life never meant enough-

you were never hopeful.

there's a getaway map on the underside
of your pillow, and a lifetime of secrets
on the underside of your bones

you're a walking travesty:
your chest ticks, dull
your wrist beats, dying
time is keeping you but

you were never pa

The Nature of ThingsHere, with my hands in the dirt.
I never imagined myself
as much of a gardener.

Then again,
I never imagined I'd be much of a cook either,

let alone a poet.

knuckles so broken,
I can barely hold a pencil.
Every time I take a breath,
I feel the ribs that have not yet healed.

Though they should've,
long ago.

So I guess I've changed.
So much so
there are times when I don't recognize myself
in the mirror.

I think,
who is this person standing before me?
Where did he come from?
When did he get here?

But I have no answers.

I guess this is the nature of things.
Though part of me longs to reach out.

To tell the `me that

Three Ring ShowThere are days they think the sweetest sound is
The falling
Rain.

These are the days they wonder at
And revel in.

To him, they are the days of his circus girl,
Who swept him up and took him away.
The girl who walked the rope and showed him
There is more to learn.

To her, they are the days of her horse boy,
Who slowed her down and walked.
The boy who loved the fight
But also gave her soft reprieve.

These are the days of comfort
When they feel their shelter keenest.

These are the days of three rings
Two people
One show.

The prayers I left behindThe prayers I left behind

A constant rain woke me up, startled by the unfamiliar noise it made. Not that I've never heard the rain falling down, but this kind had a metal tinkling in it.
I opened my eyes and saw a blue black sky illuminated by the rain itself. Wasn't water but light, what was falling - like a million stars diving to the earth. Perhaps that was why they made that metal sound when they touched the ground. I looked down to the floor, surprised that it was a glass floor with a sky-like layer on the bottom. The clouds moved with the wind and let me see a couple of mountains, way down from where I stood.
I marveled at this beautif

Casualties of WarLike your duffle bag strings,
we were burdened and taut.
In the hangar full
of camouflaged men,
we all blended;
another family thinking about
how if this were World War Two,
we’d be hanging you a blue star
and praying that
the alchemy of war
didn't turn it gold.
We wondered if the photograph of us,
soon to be framed on the mantle,
would be our final documentation
that you existed,
and “single mother” would become
permanent status for our matriarch,
eyes tight as she hugged us four
to her chest as if to ward away
thoughts of widowhood.

They don’t tell you about
the deaths on the home front,
how the father comes ho

IntimacyIntimacy
In to me; see.

It calls me in the night
When I'm down and drunk
It calls me in the night
When the lights go down.

I hear it in my dreams
Echoes around my mind
The laughter of a baying crowd
A girl's unflinching sneer

This red man in my soul
He takes all over me
I see things through his eyes
When the dark rage is on me

When I'm standing on a bridge
Redman whispers at my ear
Drags me down with him
Takes me unto the brink

Don't hurt me anymore
I ask the man every time
Smiles wider than the sky
And takes over me!

He's me when I see a friend
In a happier mood than I
He snarls and drives 'em all away
And keeps me all to himself.

I s

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More from ~impossiblemeasures

grey citydear london
i miss you

i miss grey streets and grey skies
grey expressions on everyone's faces

london is always so romanticized
and whilst i may be a sucker
for romance
i fell in love with you for what you are
and not what i wished for you to be

i miss watching school children gather underneath sheds in the rain
black and boring umbrellas covering the crowds
grey umbrellas who make no sounds

you read in stories about girls
who leave their hearts and souls behind
but you never believe it's true
until it happens to you

i miss people standing on the right side of the escalator
saying excuse me and i'm sorry to everyone i touch
trying to g

Falling onto thorns.You’d think falling in love is like memorizing all the birthmarks on someones body but it’s more like opening a box with a laptop on the cover to find a carefully wrapped lamp on Christmas.

People fall in love and out of love and meanwhile I’d fall into a dark pit of damp pain and bad phrasing.

Why is love so often represented by flowers when flowers have such short lives?
If anything, you should give your beloved a cactus.
Surviving in the hardest situations, such should your love be as well. Untouchable by others, staying strong without constant pampering.
If your love is like a cactus, congratulations.

I once fell in

CountingI don’t like numbers because they’re sharp and exact and I have to make sure they’re right.
People ask me what my lucky number is and I can’t answer because I don’t have one because numbers are unlucky.
And they are cruel to me.
I’ll cut myself on the sharp edge of 7 and trip over 3 and hit my head on 6.
I avoid numbers but they always catch up and I’m not sure why.
My birthday is in month number 4 at day number 9 and every year I want to lock myself up and sleep to avoid people who want to congratulate me on changing the number that is my age.
The volume on the TV always has to end on number 0 or

Dragonflies.Sometimes I miss dragonflies. It'll hit me just like that, like thunder out of nowhere. Thunder from clear skies. Strange, right? Or well, maybe I'm not just missing the dragonflies, maybe I'm missing the summer evenings by the sea on an old pier and the smell of salt and watching the sunset and watching colorful dragonflies fly above the water. That might be what I miss. Possibly. This year, I saw no dragonflies. This year, I never dipped my feet in the ocean and I never listened to the seagulls and I never even got any mosquito bites. The only thing I did this year was complain about the heat and sleep and not sleep because of overheated ro

What was left in London.Silence.
It's silent and my tea is cold and the sky is gray.
I yawn and expect the air I let out to turn into fog
but there's nothing and I sit dumb folded
in the same spot as always
and wonder if the air is different in London
or if I just left my capability to breathe there,
just like everything else.
Somehow, I left all of myself behind.

Uncomfortable beds and mumbled words,
that jumble out of order as I speak
and also constant back pain.
Forgotten sentences and forgotten tea.
Souls left in cities with sirens, taxis
and where the sky has no stars.
Only nightlights.

Rain so silent I can hear the clock ticking
and automat

The dishes don't do themselves.I don't want to get married.
I'd rather get a bird.
I'm too scared of falling, you know?
Falling to the floor because the dress is too long, that is.
Yes, getting a short dress is out of the question.

I don't want to get married because what happens afterwards?
What do married people do?
The same things as everyone else, you'd say.
Then what's the point? I reply.
What is the point of getting married if you still have to do dishes?

I'm going to get a bird
and teach it to tango.
Then I'll tour around the world and earn millions of dollars.
And I won't have to waste any of them on a long white dress
but I could hire someone to do

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Submitted: October 9, 2012
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One year.

by ~impossiblemeasures, Oct 9, 2012, 8:32:07 PM
Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

It is July and I am a library book.
You borrow me but only peak inside, but that's enough to make you interested. But before you know it, you need to return the book and you're left wondering and soon also forgetting.

It is November and I am a puppy.
Excited and ready to explore, you adore me and I am all yours, even if I don't know it yet. We play together and I love every minute, every word.

It is December and I am a pillow.
A pillow to hug when no one else is there, a pillow who understands, and then gets sent to get washed and during those days there is only confusion.

It is February and I am a porcelain doll.
Fragile and to be handled with care, you hold me as tight as you dare and you make sure to do as much as you can to keep me safe, to keep me whole.

It is April and I am an old painting.
Dull to some, emotional to others, terribly heartbreaking to you because the paint is fading and the picture is distorted.

It is May and I am a broken glass on the floor.
You are horrified because I looked sturdier than I was and you dropped me by accident. You hate yourself for destroying me and desperately gather all the pieces together, not caring about the cuts and gashes on your fingers.

It is July and I am a lost shirt.
You're not sure if you miss me because sometimes you do but other days you can't even remember what I look like.

It is August and I am wind.
I blow past you and assure you that it's okay now.

One year.by ~impossiblemeasures

Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

I have lost my capability to come up with titles but I don't really care even if I do because I care too much but right now I cannot be bothered.

This is a true story and it is really about love but I can't write about love but I can write about metaphors so that's what I did obviously, I'm just hoping it's coming across correctly because it probably doesn't.

I sort of miss her but I kind of don't.

~~love 0 0~~

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

sad 1 1

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~TheMoorMaiden Nov 6, 2012 Student Writer

Wow there's something very haunting about this piece. I love the last two stanzas in particular. For something which could easily have become repetitive in a pretty boring way you kept me hooked from start to finish. You told a whole story purely through metaphors, so well done!

~impossiblemeasures Nov 6, 2012

Thank you so much for the comment and the kind words. It really means a lot.

I always try so hard avoiding being repetitive and boring, so I'm glad I succeeded. Thanks, once again.