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you are the first boy i have loved, and no. i don’t want to kiss any harder. i’d rather throw my best blood glistening across the sticky midnight walls. most days, i am aroused by my own suicide. but tonight i’ll hold your dark head in my lap. swallow the shake in my fingers with a tip of salt and sour alcohol. say i love you like a love poem. no i don’t know how to be not always slit open. i am learning the addiction of tattoos. how to overcome cigarette poisoning. to make love and call it fucking. though you do not know i write poems, you ask me for a sonnet. i recite sylvia plath in the soupy darkness. it is my only party trick. i kiss you harder. write your name on the slender edge of my throat. this is not love, but it might as well be. i have learned to say yes when my brain cannot remember “go slow”. i have memorized your birth date. i have learned to brush my lips over your adam’s apple to make you swoon. i wear your shirts to sleep. i wade through your body. our souls romp together, polished as marbles. i bend backward. mouth open. you kiss my sternum. your teeth extract my moans like combs of honey.
the removal of the shirt
an epilogue. an apology. an excuse. a lie. a journal entry.
an epithet to your dark skin.
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you are the first boy i have loved, and no. i don’t want to kiss any harder. i’d rather throw my best blood glistening across the sticky midnight walls. most days, i am aroused by my own suicide. but tonight i’ll hold your dark head in my lap. swallow the shake in my fingers with a tip of salt and sour alcohol. say i love you like a love poem. no i don’t know how to be not always slit open. i am learning the addiction of tattoos. how to overcome cigarette poisoning. to make love and call it fucking. though you do not know i write poems, you ask me for a sonnet. i recite sylvia plath in the soupy darkness. it is my only party trick. i kiss you harder. write your name on the slender edge of my throat. this is not love, but it might as well be. i have learned to say yes when my brain cannot remember “go slow”. i have learned to spell your last name. i have learned to brush my lips over your adam’s apple to make you swoon. i wear your shirts to sleep. i wade through your body. our souls romp together, polished as marbles. i bend backward. mouth open. you kiss my sternum. your teeth extract my moans like combs of honey.
the removal of the shirt.
an epilogue. an apology. an excuse. a lie. a journal entry.
an epithet to your dark skin.
Loading...
So I started a tumblr blog for my writing. I don't know how much I'll have up in the near future (as of now, only one poem up), but I'm taking another poetry class this semester, and I wanted a fresh place to post things. I feel as if this space, while safe and supportive, is very tied up with my past and my problems. I need somewhere completely new. 

I'll be posting new things on here as well, hopefully, but for the most part, I'll be posting to this new blog.

I love all of you, and apologize for my absence. My book never made it past its almost-publication, but I hope to muddle through something newer in the next year. I'd love to have you guys follow me at my new place, and to follow you in return. 

Here's to a new chapter. 

theproperverb.tumblr.com/
  • Mood: Joy
  • Listening to: Into the Fire - Thirteen Senses
  • Drinking: coffee
by my eighth spring, i’ve held my knees to my chest so many times, people tell me i’ll never recover. my belly is banded with red creases that pucker in instead of out. i dimple in embarrassing places. i wear scars like the laces of ballet slippers, lattice-work of depression binding themselves up my arms. i am told they are for life. my jaw bones protrude when i grit my teeth. my hips show like collarbones when i walk. i’ve been taught it’s better to show bone than the places where my skin is learning to fit.  

and he kisses me there. high on the thigh. smears the thin threads of scarlet against his lips. kisses me on the lips with it. i swallow the rays rising from his eyes, lean into the curve of his smile. when i curl my hands into fists, sometimes they stay that way. i hope when i turn to see him, my smiles always drape themselves around my neck for later. i hope my eyebrows learn to knit. i hope the hands of my rib-cage are always idle, wrapped around the right things. and when my hands begin to crack with winter, i hope it’s him who holds them.
Poem For the Day My First Wrinkle Appears
*Poem For the Day My First Wrinkle Appears, Just to the Left of My Upper Lip*


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You are gone. Vanquished by
the sound of the floorboards
protesting, of the cupboards
rummaging among themselves.

You are gone. You were setting
out dinner plates for someone
else, preparing spaces in the material
tracing the shadows
of future men
with your blue ink fingers.

The black circlet of your teeth
slips from my throat
to the shower floor.
Like a tick.
The feast is over.
Round and sore,
my breasts hang the way
my mother’s used to.
I bleed the way the woman
down the street bleeds.
She strings her laundry
on the clothesline
like scarecrows.
She believes they will
stand guard over her body.
They swing
stiff as abortions
in the breeze.

I consider that my mouth
is likely the last to have taken
my mother’s breast,
as the last of two children,
to have held it on my tongue
like a shattered light bulb
and drawn hard with need.

My father perhaps detested the way
love poured sloppily from every
curve of her body,
my mother ashamed of the slits
the surgeons made to free me,
thin worms on her belly she hid
with her palms
when my father came to her.
Those worms feed at my rib-cage
as I practice undressing,
like a backwards puppet-show;
fissures of
not understanding why
a man cannot love
me.

I dream about the dark
saucer of the moon.
The fisherman’s body
revolving on a thin string.
How the wolf upon its
gray surface seems to
suckle on a howl.

You are gone. Like my
father. You keep your ring
of teeth looped
about your finger like a
barbed chain.
I roll over and
do not greet your ghost
at the door.

You are gone. Vanished into
the silence of the floorboards,
into the screams
you once coaxed
from our bed-frame.
Den of Thieves
.
First thing I've written in months. Ripped it out of my jugular.
Loading...
So I started a tumblr blog for my writing. I don't know how much I'll have up in the near future (as of now, only one poem up), but I'm taking another poetry class this semester, and I wanted a fresh place to post things. I feel as if this space, while safe and supportive, is very tied up with my past and my problems. I need somewhere completely new. 

I'll be posting new things on here as well, hopefully, but for the most part, I'll be posting to this new blog.

I love all of you, and apologize for my absence. My book never made it past its almost-publication, but I hope to muddle through something newer in the next year. I'd love to have you guys follow me at my new place, and to follow you in return. 

Here's to a new chapter. 

theproperverb.tumblr.com/
  • Mood: Joy
  • Listening to: Into the Fire - Thirteen Senses
  • Drinking: coffee

deviantID

sense-and-stupidity

Artist | Student | Literature
United States
My book: www.barnesandnoble.com/w/symbo…

"I want the count down inside of me to stop being so precise; I want to jump to zero and back to infinity. I believe in infinity. It's my fatal flaw."
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:iconpanosozi:
panosozi Featured By Owner Feb 23, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
thanks a lot for the fav on my photo.
wish u the best.
if you have time take a look at my rest gallery 
Reply
:iconsammur-amat:
Sammur-amat Featured By Owner Edited Jan 9, 2015   General Artist
hello there, lovely person! :huggle:
this is to inform you that i have made use of one of the titles in your poetry in my title poem over here: fav.me/d8d65gn :love:
i hope that this is alright with you, pray that you enjiy the read, and thank you for your inspirational artistry! :eager: <3
Reply
:iconfadedworlds:
fadedworlds Featured By Owner Nov 11, 2014  Student Writer
Thank you for the fav!  
Reply
:iconpsychobeast:
PsychoBeast Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2014
You inspire me so much, your works make me write, write write. If you ever need anyone to talk to, you can always msg me. (even though you dont know me :P)
Reply
:iconsense-and-stupidity:
sense-and-stupidity Featured By Owner Nov 2, 2014  Student Writer
Thank you so much for this. I've kept from replying just so I can keep it in my inbox and look at it when I log on. One of my greatest wishes in life is to inspire other people, in whatever way. :) I'm glad you are writing and writing and writing; it's the only way to live, in my opinion. Have a splendid day, friend.
Reply
:iconchoque-plumbeo:
Choque-Plumbeo Featured By Owner Sep 10, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
hey wanna read a play with me?
Reply
:iconsense-and-stupidity:
sense-and-stupidity Featured By Owner Sep 11, 2014  Student Writer
Yes. Which and how and when?
Reply
:iconchoque-plumbeo:
Choque-Plumbeo Featured By Owner Sep 12, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Its the King in yellow, part of it which i wrote, read it it's in my page, if you like it we'll talk about how. I'd like to record the voices to put the play together and i heard your voice and i really liked it, also i need a Cassilda and i hope you'll like it. As to when, im moving, so i can not until sunday.
Reply
:iconithaswhatitisnt:
ithaswhatitisnt Featured By Owner Aug 12, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you so much for the fave! :tighthug:
Reply
:iconjimfleming:
jimfleming Featured By Owner Jul 2, 2014
Thank you :)
Reply
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