Have you ever walked outside to nothing?
Or sought the green light that wasn’t there?
Or maybe you flew once.
Twice, maybe.
Away, for sure.
And no one knows where you went.
Do you think it’s fair when I’m
Left with nothing but a stupid feather
That could’ve come from
Any
Damn
Bird?
No one knows which one you are.
When I sing a song, you
Sing it back, you
Look at me, you
Let me know everything is okay!
I don’t know where you’re hiding
and you won’t let me find you.
But if, one day, you decide to sing back,
I’ll be waiting in my wood
With the next verse.
—3 May 2012
Maybe
I often wonder what it is like to be able to
Feel everything you’re going through; to know what you
Like or who you like, or if
I mean anything to you at all, or if we
Have a hidden common ground, waiting
To be discovered—waiting for a new kind of
Fight that would tear both of us apart at the seams.
For that might be the only way to stitch my heart to
Your soul, if you have one. I think maybe this
Friendship means more to me than a lot of things.
—20 May 2012
how it ends
It has been 2 years, 4 months and 13 days since the first time I saw you naked, since the night you ripped off your shirt, stuck your boobs in my face and said “touch them”. I touched them like a diabetic third grader opening a Snickers bar. You said “hard”, I thought, “yes I am”. But you are so soft, I said, your lips, they’re like whale blubber. That wasn’t my best line, but it worked. Tonight in the grocery store, I found one of your hairs in my underwear, I pulled it out in the frozen food section and screamed, THAT is so gorgeous, it could kill a man! Good thing I’m a leprechaun.
Lucky… Lucky…
Baby, I have no idea how this will end. Maybe the equator will fall like a hula hoop from the earth’s hips and our mouths will freeze mid-kiss on our 80th anniversary, or maybe tomorrow, my absolute insanity combined with the absolute obstacle course of your communication skills will leave us like a love letter in a landfill. But whatever, whenever, however this ends, I want you to know, that right now, I love you forever. I love you for the hardest mile we walked together, for the night I collected every sharp knife in the house and threw them one by one on the roof then told the sun, “listen show off, from now on, you are only to give me blades of grass; things that are growing and soft, cause there’s this girl who says she wants to float on her back through my bloodstream and when she does, I want my rivers to reach the sea”.
Do you hear me, lover? Do you know, the night you told me you had a crush on my ears, I swore to never to become Van Gogh and look, baby, they are both still there, just like my firefly heart is still right there in your glass jar. I never trusted anybody more to poke enough holes in the lid, so on the nights you sleep like a ballerina, I try to snore like a piccolo. And I press my lips to your holy temples and I say, I crash into things in the dark even when the lights are on, and I am wrong more often than I am writing and even then, I am often wrong, but when my friends are in the bathroom at the bar, rolling dollar bills into telescopes and claiming they can see God, I will come to you, holding my grandmother’s Bible, I will press it to your chest and I will bless it with your breath and when you ask if I wanna role-play altar boys fucking in the kitchen during Sunday Mass I will say, HELL YES, but only if you leave a hickey on my ass in the shape of Jesus’ palm so I can be sure I got nailed, down.
Lover, you will never lose me to the wind. You are the lightning that made me fill my chest with candles. You are the thunder clapping for the poem that nobody else wants to hear. You are an icicle’s tear watering a tulip on the first day of spring. You melt me alive. You kiss me as deep as my roots will reach, and I want nothing more than to be an eyelash fallen on your cheek, then being collected by your fingers and held like a wish. I promise that whatever I do, I will always try my best to come true.
(Source: framboesaonoarbusto, via thedisreguardian)
I’m going to freestyle a poem right now are you ready
You’re a big fat stupid lump
Of sagging skin and brittle bones
And I hate everything about you
Like the way you stare off into space
In contempt of all the other stupid lumps
Around you
Or the way you dress so simply
With a vintage tee and burnt out jeans
Like, dude, god damn it
I am annoyed by the Pokemon obsession you have
I just remembered I have your Gold Version
You can have that shit back
And you gave me your mom’s Bible!
They say that the owner of a Bible that’s falling apart usually isn’t
Except when they don’t have it in their possession!
I fucking hate how smart you are
And how hilariously sarcastic you are
And how stupidly adorable you are
Literally can you just go away for a long time
I don’t need your nonchalant gaze to accidentally meet mine
Every. Single. Day.
It was totally unnecessary for you
To be so amused during prom
While I was rapping the entirety of Super Bass
I don’t care for your ideal height, body type,
Personality, style, music sense,
Philosophy, even race, god damn it
I HATE YOU
not really
but you get the point
"
if everything happens that can’t be done
(and anything’s righter
than books
could plan)
the stupidest teacher will almost guess
(with a run
skip
around we go yes)
there’s nothing as something as one
one hasn’t a why or because or although
(and buds know better
than books
don’t grow)
one’s anything old being everything new
(with a what
which
around we come who)
one’s everyanything so
so world is a leaf so a tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away and so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never till now
now i love you and you love me
(and books are shuter
than books
can be)
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall
(with a shout
each
around we go all)
there’s somebody calling who’s we
we’re anything brighter than even the sun
(we’re everything greater
than books
might mean)
we’re everyanything more than believe
(with a spin
leap
alive we’re alive)
we’re wonderful one times one
if everything happens that can’t be done, e.e. cummings (via gperrykarpy)
(via heedthis)
i have a green light, too
that green light still flashes
for me, at me.
the green light still flashes
without really flashing at all.
im sitting on my couch, my dock,
and im watching you,
next to that fucking green light.
you are not a world away.
you are not unattainable.
but you are still a dream.
the green light is real,
but i stay here
until it turns gray
every night
because i dont know how to swim,
dammit.
—27 April 2012
What does it mean to be blue?
we are 14, 15, 16, 17
first, you behind me
then i behind you
and we did not know each other
then we both were dressed
as a person whose goal was to
not be found
and that is when we found each other
(as terrible as that sounds)
and then we were friends.
and i had watched you grow
eleven inches, eleven stories tall
and now we are friends and friends
and i look at my couch and remember
that time you came two hours too early
and we talked and i took out
my accordion. now i know why
you love them so much
and i have learned you
and we are still friends
but what will happen when you move
two hours south
immersed in your new world with new people
while i stay here, waiting patiently
with my blue canary song
will i lose you?
and the rest of myself
and the rest of what i know?
i never told you this before
but sometimes blue means sadness
and there is such a sadness when
i look into your eyes and see that dog
that gazed at me in that storefront
begging for me to take him home
and i wonder why
your eyes dont do the same
—25 April 2012
I want to get lost with you, okay? I don’t want to date you or marry you, have two kids and a golden retriever and a white picket fence- I just want to get lost with you. I want to take the wrong subway train and end up in Chelsea, in a gallery with huge modern art paintings on the stark white walls. I want to watch you pretend to understand those paintings just to impress me. I want to get lost in a bookstore with the smell of aging pages and spilled coffee, stale clove cigarettes lingering on thrift store cotton and I want to get lost in blinking lights with you in a city near an ocean.
I want to get lost in the sand with bare feet and wet hair that smells like salt and sun and air and sunscreen. I want to take to the sea and steal away on a sailboat with you in a white t-shirt and those old black sunglasses and that cliche crooked smile of yours that I want to stare at and kiss away in the same moment.
I want to get lost on old country roads at night in the rain. I want to kiss you in the back of your old car that smells like warm leather and fresh cut grass and sweat and shampoo and I want your strong hands in my hair, getting lost in its waves. I want to get lost in your body when are clothes are still on and we are kissing and touching and whispering secrets in the most quiet and perfect human way we can. I want to get lost with you and only you in a field a forest a city an ocean a bookstore and old road or even just your dark green sheets, but I want to get lost with you so you can get lost with me
and only me.
(via thecupisaportkey)
Scarecrow
Each day passes frightfully
All the dogs have turned to stray
Our fortunes said it could not be
But all the birds have flown away
They left the scarecrow in it’s field
Alone, for no one cares to bide
Its time much longer, ruin yield
The kiddies all have run inside
You only sought to do your job
To scare and scare til none are left
You’re done and dead in your own mob
Such beauty since has turned to theft
Lessons learned have yet to come
Our morning’s past, the days are done
—7 April 2012
