[x]

ever aftermy mother hasn't told me she loved me
since.

since i can't remember if she ever
did.

i used to write about silver things and magic strings
that tied hearts and eyes and stars to your sins

i wrote a song for you

pink and raw, cut and purple
i'm inside drowning myself

i'm kinda sad

but i'm still okay

funny how things grow
to die

i've been burning the life out of myself
worse than the muses wasting their talents
on heavy smoke

you stood there,
while i watched

and it was late

but i already knew

that no matter how much i bled myself
it wouldn't let the poison out

it wouldn't let me breathe

-

so afraid of the little things

size zero virgin mary1.

you're sitting on the porch.
i leave on the bus,
stare out the windows until it pulls to a stop.
i buy a quart,
and when i return
you're still there
sitting on the porch,
looking ahead at what looks like
nothing in particular but
i know that isn't the case.

the neighbours across the street
moved away after
their daughter passed.
it was called a "terrible bloody accident"
but we all know that it was no accident.
people don't make those sort of mistakes.

i don't really remember her, just the way
she walked around with the sway of her body saying
"i'm a virgin, call me mary."
i felt bad being un-phased by her death

sleep, as an elephant1.
it is strange to see you
older and out of love with me

it is similarly strange to see me
younger and out of love with you.

i want to
throw my arms around your neck
and say

thank you for
leading me to believe in love,
thank you for
showing me what the cock does
when it crows and summons the morning.

thank you for laying in my bed,
breathing my breath.
thank you for laying in my bed,
with your head on my breast
listening to the fluttering
bird in its nest.
thank you for staining my bed-
with your salt, it was blessed.
thank you for leaving my bed,
giving my dreams to its next.

thank you for, out of all the rest,
ch

the mountain in my mindyou can pray
all you want
but there will still be
violence, murders
and rapists
(running around
just outside your windows).

there will still be
those bad men
who tell your children,
"i'll teach you how to love me."

there will still be
the kids who
claim to be your friend,
touching you
because they can.

there will still be
the girlfriends
and boyfriends
that love the work of your body
more than
the work of your mind
and they will
leave you alone
to nurse new wounds.

because we are human
we are easy targets.

*

i say all this,
though i, myself, am no saint.

if a person asked me
if t

adoration
do you remember
the time the clouds darkened?
we were driving on those lonely night roads,
our stomachs churning
as the road kept turning
like a giant maze hoping to get us lost
and our drunken haze did us no good.
how stupid we were.

do you remember
the time you tried to die?
i think about how it might have happened:
i see you sitting in that room with only yourself,
gasping and sobbing.
when you slumped downward
against the old, peeling paint
did you have a moment of doubt?
were you thinking of anyone?
were you thinking of me?
probably not.

do you remember
when you stripped,
bruising throats with finge

Sometimes you're a daydream.I almost forgot you were here last night, until I climbed back into bed again and the sheets were tangled like trees beneath my duvet and the scent of your hair and the taste of your skin crawled into me through the depths of the pillow next to mine.

Your side of the bed is empty and the air in my room is still and I can almost feel the warmth of your fingertips on my waist.
But just almost.

And when the pain becomes too much, and I stumble out of bed into the cocoon of heavy night, I sit on the floor beneath the sink and try to touch reality again. What day is it really, what month, how many more sleeping pills will it take before I too c

fumai'll be honest. it scares me all the time. the way it feels, the complete
inconsistency of reality, the dip of light and shadow as
what you perceive rips from what is perceivable.

even so, i miss it,
even though it's wrong, he is wrong, i want nothing
of either: i miss them. i know.

you, you, are writing on my back, writing out your secrets
in felt-tip pen, in aubergine, en español.
que van debajo de mi piel. me encanta este... simplemente no se.

i am a bad girl with good taste:
mixing a cherished smile with the hot grin of smoke.
talk to me in circles, bilateral trapezoids, violet tongues

four hours, maybe five, spent sp

things that hurt
it was past midnight
and i was drunk again.
i told myself,
"tonight i will write."
so here i am, the morning after,
looking at pages and pages of
shit.

i wallow
in self-pity,
pouring myself another drink.
i swallow,
i swallow,
i swallow,
and sink.

in the end
i'm still here,
still empty.

i don't like looking back
and realizing that
i was just
another rebellious kid
hiding cigarettes
under her pillow –
realizing all too late that
you were beautiful,
fucking,
sobbing,
and i gave you away –
realizing that, deep down,
even the happiest people are a little sad –
realizing that we're always

charcoal hearti met him while summer was turning into winter. it was beautiful the way the leaves fell and we would try to catch them before they hit the ground.

each pair of jeans he owned were ripped and grass-stained. he was known for sporting duct-taped converse and his baggy sweaters would act as a place for him to hide.

he would wear his scars like a prayer, covering his body and i hated having to remind him that he was only sixteen years old – sixteen years old with an expression that showed disinterest. sixteen years old with tired, brown eyes and wind-swept hair. sixteen years old with sharp bones that liked digging into my skin.

the first

truth
i like to sit
on my pile of secrets
and pretend
i don't have any at all

no such thingi gotta wake up at 5
so i'll make this quick

i'm tired of being my own
best friend
when i don't even like myself

i'm tired of not knowing what
i want and being taken for granted

i'm tired

of being tired

every little wish.a couple months back,
you started me up on
wishing.

and i did,
but every time
i'd wish i was
with someone
else.

whispers.shhh. no one has to know the truth, but us.
so you promised me everything, and i did trust.
but the way things went, your smile, it rust.
and now what are we, but a memory in dust?

so stop already.

to the fuckhead in the back-okay fuckhead, i am done with the mascara and the low cut shirts
i don't care if you want to fuck me or if you want to know me or if you want another damn cigarette

you're always taking. and i'll be fucking honest right now, because i'm high, because i'm wasted, because i'm done lying so i can maybe for one minute look pretty to you, you're always taking. and it started with things i could give you, yep, no problem, but i am falling behind and you're not helping me babyboybabybaby
it all started with taking my virginity, and that was anything but pretty. the blood was dark red, and my favorite panties had to be thrown away

and damnit, dam

fever-sleepi will not sleep tonight.

because when i do i dream of you
in technicolor nightmares that haunt my mind

and burn me from the inside like a fever
from hell from flames that tear open the frames
that burns through every mirror in this room
i've spent an eternity in.

it burns. to ask

you if you still love me
if you'd hold me close
in your arms. where

there's no pain or rain or decay.

will you be the one to save me from myself?
will you be the one to climb through windows to rescue me?

thank god for
insomnia.

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there are mermaids“hello,” i waved.

he gave me a weak smile and waved back.

-

this is him:

skinny, with jagged bones, pale skin and thick, coal-colored hair that falls unevenly around his shoulders. last year he asked my best friend for acid and yesterday i learned that he doesn’t like psychologists because he thinks they’re people who are paid to care. i wouldn’t disagree with that.

today we went to the beach and drew pictures with sticks in the wet sand. he wore a baggy 1970-styled sweater. it was the same color green as his eyes.

-

i remember:

when i met him i was cautious otherwise i felt like the boy in front of me would f

pennyfuckthe earth we lived on
had two moons.

(at night
they both
held hands.)

-

i keep remembering
our naked mornings
and our naked nights.
we were the
sound of the ocean.

we’d smoke
poison
and watch
our liquid sex squirm.

-

lets bleed
all over the carpet,
we’re knee-deep
in secrets.

i miss
your voice
when you still sang
and when my heart
wasn’t your
pincushion.

yes,

i use to think
you were from a city
made of stars,
now you sit in the
dark waiting to be
reborn.

at least i
still have your
picture
to smile at.

you are indigotoday i wrote a story about us,
but i crumpled it up and threw it away.

today i cried three buckets of tears,
one for me and two for you
because i feel you deserve more than i do.

today i didn’t see you, but i wanted to.

x.

i used to smile because i thought it made you smile but
shortly after meeting you i found out that
the only reason you ever do
is because you are constantly .

will you ever get tired of living a life of over-doses
and nights you can’t remember –
faces you can’t remember,
hangovers you wish would go away.

one more hit of acid and you're legally insane.

i haven’t touched you

childhood innocenceyou have a smile that could stop a
war and innocent eyes that shine.
you said you wished you were a star,
but i’m sorry to say that they die too
and you wear your heart on your
sleeve, not understanding that it can
easily be stolen away
but keep sailing your ship and maybe
we’ll finally follow.

monstersit was summer when we met and
you were standing there with
the most vacant expression on your face.

your baggy clothes hid your body,
and your messy hair hid your eyes,
which i so-badly wanted to see the color of.

you held out your hand and smiled,
telling me your name.
i took your hand and told you mine then
brushed the hair away from your eyes,
finding out they were green.
my favorite color.

***

you were the one to chase the monsters
away from under my bed,
and after you left they came back.

remember the sun and stars?
i miss seeing them in your eyes.

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an artist

by ~the-chemical-factory, Sep 22, 2012, 4:24:07 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

i.

you said,
"artists only get paid to cut off their ears,
jump out windows,
commit seppuku with old butcher knives,
overdose and leave a note about how bad life felt,
step in front of trains,
or hang themselves from trees after parisian dealers reject them."

i wanted so badly to disagree,
but found myself unable to.

"i don't want that to be me," you said,
letting your artist hands go to waste.
"i'd hate myself and
just like van gogh, i'd die angry and miserable."

ii.

you said,
"it is so easy to be naked.
it is so easy.
but to be naked and unashamed,
that is something completely different."

i was beginning to learn that a heart can bend
and a heart can twist
and a heart can break apart,
for many reasons more than just that of an old lover.

i tried to tell you that
we are more than just our pasts,
but you didn't believe me.

iii.

you said,
"sometimes i cry like a baby for no reason at all."

i knew a greater lie never left your mouth,
but that's just the way you are.
there's always a reason for your tears,
and over the years you've fed me
one too many pretenses.

so i laughed,
and i laughed,
but you got angry,
started screaming.

"SHUT UP," i screamed right back,
forcing you to control that wild temper.
"my god," i threw my hands up,
"you artist-types are so fucking sensitive."

"okay…" you whispered so quietly
i could barely hear.

and that night your face tasted like tears,
but i didn't feel bad.
i never really do
because i know that in the end
i'm good for you.
it is in the way i touch your hair
and don't force you to talk like everyone else.
i just let you stay quiet
because many things are best kept hidden.

an artistby ~the-chemical-factory

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

~be gentle~

i had an idea that inspired this,
but you can all interpret each part the way you'd like

love 1 1

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~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

`TomWilcox Sep 25, 2012

I really enjoyed this. Very nice.

A possible correction in grammar:

Should it be "One too many pretense"? I'm not sure.

~the-chemical-factory Sep 25, 2012 Student Writer

thank you ~
& naw, i'll leave it as it is.

=VertigoArt Sep 24, 2012

"it is so easy to be naked.
it is so easy.
but to be naked and unashamed,
that is something completely different."

To show yourself is easy, but to show yourself without fear of judgment is one of the hardest things in my opinion. I have yet to be able to do and I have been writing for thirty years. Maybe I never will, but I have to keep trying. Maybe one day I will be unashamed, but I doubt it because doubt wins.

Wonderful piece. Raw and emotional. So much here and so little said.

~the-chemical-factory Sep 24, 2012 Student Writer

yeah, it really is difficult.

thanks so much

=VertigoArt Sep 24, 2012

My pleasure.

~smilewithlove Sep 23, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

reading this the lines just walked in and cuddled my soul. this is so raw and outstanding.

~the-chemical-factory Sep 23, 2012 Student Writer

thank you

~smilewithlove Sep 27, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

you're welcome <3

~CuddleSlut17 Sep 23, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

This has to be the most honest, raw heartfelt piece I read in awhile. Im a writer and i read & write alot.Please leave it up.

The first stanza of the II paragraph is so true im glad someone can relete to me.

Also the III paragraph 4th stanza last line. I'm not offended at all it's very true.

If I could fav this more then once I would very well written.

~the-chemical-factory Sep 23, 2012 Student Writer

thank you so, so much

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