ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
13th chorus
we played strip-poker hand by
hand and in that nervous light
our clothes fell
her eyes
fell
into a healthy glimpse
of just how ugly I was;
'cause there are scars
behind my pretty poems
and a heart with muscle-
memory, beating the cadence
to which dying-soldiers march.
draped in cardio-
vascular bandaids
I taste-test every apple
to make sure it isn't poison
but she bit
just to bite.
14th chorus
she wanted static-
cling and firework dreams
but I was flesh
and bone
and getting used to
alone
and as I pulled her perfectly-
pale frame on top of me
her eyes took the glow from mine
between gasps; a tear (of purely
misguided moisture)rolled south
and she cried
while my tear-ducts
heaved spirits
from a well
that went dry
years ago.
15th chorus
there is a feeling to fail
there is a feeling to study the floor
there is a feeling to see ugly in the mirror
there is a feeling to see it smiling
there is a feeling to digest shivers
as arm hairs raise
in the company of spirits
that only watch.
there is a feeling
that washes over you
when an angel cries
and you realize
one tear is enough
to drown you
16th chorus
there is a feeling
to hold out
for a miracle
that blows up
in your face.
there is a feeling
to see the stars up close
and know you weren't meant
to be that high.
there is a feeling
to sit alone
in a dank motel room
listening
to traffic pass
and helicopters whirl
knowing
something died
and unsure
of what it was.
17th chorus
I'd have her know
that the difference
between
an expensive mistake
and a valuable
lesson
is not in that
busty heart
of hers
or in that butterfly nest
she called a gut
or in the gears
always turning
behind her
beautiful
face,
but in the soul
those
stained church-
glass eyes
have shown
(me)
silhouettes of.
18th chorus
Neruda,
you fucking sap,
I could really use
your help right now.
I trusted my gut
until it was coerced
to lie
by the bias
of bloated butterflies
and my heart has too low
of an IQ
to make up
my mind.
you've left us
with an ideology of
love
that no one
can live up to;
'cause stars
will see
the headlights
of cars
yet
such two lights
may never
share
a single shine.
19th chorus
something tells me
you found that love
and took it with you
and hid it in the clouds
carved by airplanes
and left to lay
beneath
orion
or sold it
to Van Gogh
for his other ear
and a few
good paintings.
or traded it
to Einstein
for the square-
root of infinity
so he could
then devise
equations
in which two whole numbers
could reach
their local maximum
as an ordered pair
and never
diverge.
damn you Pablo,
something tells me
you found that love
and took it
with you.
we played strip-poker hand by
hand and in that nervous light
our clothes fell
her eyes
fell
into a healthy glimpse
of just how ugly I was;
'cause there are scars
behind my pretty poems
and a heart with muscle-
memory, beating the cadence
to which dying-soldiers march.
draped in cardio-
vascular bandaids
I taste-test every apple
to make sure it isn't poison
but she bit
just to bite.
14th chorus
she wanted static-
cling and firework dreams
but I was flesh
and bone
and getting used to
alone
and as I pulled her perfectly-
pale frame on top of me
her eyes took the glow from mine
between gasps; a tear (of purely
misguided moisture)rolled south
and she cried
while my tear-ducts
heaved spirits
from a well
that went dry
years ago.
15th chorus
there is a feeling to fail
there is a feeling to study the floor
there is a feeling to see ugly in the mirror
there is a feeling to see it smiling
there is a feeling to digest shivers
as arm hairs raise
in the company of spirits
that only watch.
there is a feeling
that washes over you
when an angel cries
and you realize
one tear is enough
to drown you
16th chorus
there is a feeling
to hold out
for a miracle
that blows up
in your face.
there is a feeling
to see the stars up close
and know you weren't meant
to be that high.
there is a feeling
to sit alone
in a dank motel room
listening
to traffic pass
and helicopters whirl
knowing
something died
and unsure
of what it was.
17th chorus
I'd have her know
that the difference
between
an expensive mistake
and a valuable
lesson
is not in that
busty heart
of hers
or in that butterfly nest
she called a gut
or in the gears
always turning
behind her
beautiful
face,
but in the soul
those
stained church-
glass eyes
have shown
(me)
silhouettes of.
18th chorus
Neruda,
you fucking sap,
I could really use
your help right now.
I trusted my gut
until it was coerced
to lie
by the bias
of bloated butterflies
and my heart has too low
of an IQ
to make up
my mind.
you've left us
with an ideology of
love
that no one
can live up to;
'cause stars
will see
the headlights
of cars
yet
such two lights
may never
share
a single shine.
19th chorus
something tells me
you found that love
and took it with you
and hid it in the clouds
carved by airplanes
and left to lay
beneath
orion
or sold it
to Van Gogh
for his other ear
and a few
good paintings.
or traded it
to Einstein
for the square-
root of infinity
so he could
then devise
equations
in which two whole numbers
could reach
their local maximum
as an ordered pair
and never
diverge.
damn you Pablo,
something tells me
you found that love
and took it
with you.
Literature
spoken to the cat in...
people are possibilities
that's
my
angle
but better halves
in this case
come in only two flavors
one
fragile and faded
the other
bigger than life
and I
don't like it
always asking the same questions
like
did we have visions of ghosts
as a child
or
did we watch time
worry itself sick
wondering which world
it was made for
and
when someone shares a secret
who decides
on distribution
they settle into shapes
that define us
and we mumble
uncomfortable
in our sleep
restlessly stirring
once divided
Literature
losing
this is not life.
trains, mechanical voices,
the questions my friends ask. this is not life.
every song reminds me of you,
sour honey sliding down my throat.
this is not life.
two weeks ago i was flying:
on your shoulders, unstoppable, screaming with
you down into the hallways of the future.
we didn't just seize the day --
we went for the jugular and strangled the world.
saturday sitting on the jetty
you told me one day we would be flying among the stars.
i leaned against you and stared up at the blackness.
i believed you.
on monday the story changed.
you assured me that i was just a way for you to repent,
to apologise for ev
Literature
the hipbone connects to europe
mesmerize:
crack my Pangaean bones,
memorize
the aesthetics of your atlas
my patella is Spain,
my radius is France,
my coccyx is Japan;
you've broken all 3
with one gemstone
my pelvis is an equator
separating you and me
and the imaginary heat
slipping through, since
i only get action during
a Tectonic disturbance
your sternum's plates
crashed into my ribs;
your transcontinental
tremors trembled like
broken Richter scales
(a magnitude of
negative infinity)
seismic vertigo
a seizure--
sees your
seas, your
open water&
underground
escape route
from myself//
because this}
cheap romance is
a natural disaster;
Suggested Collections
© 2009 - 2024 oldest-boy
Comments58
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
There's a lot that's good here--calling out to Neruda, "just to bite", the entire 19th bit--but there's a lot that's not, that's just filler in between the good stuff. As with many of your works, I feel like raking it over and trimming away the chaff would produce something as true and as honest and much, much, much more intense.