It's hard to go unnoticed when you're hanging upside down,
The suited girl, the boy trapped in his mother's wedding gown,
The kid obsessed with numbers and the walking sad, sad song,
The ones in ear defenders who could hear you all along.
The girl without an appetite, the boy without a voice,
The trembling hands and rubber bands that snap without a choice,
The boy who don't speak English, in the ...
You've gotten sloppy;
Your poems don't read like they used to.
Hand sanitiser, drying up.
What use have you for being clean?
Or maybe you should down it.
Tell me why
You only write when your lungs are
Asbestos and dynamite.
So you can spill onto a screen
Your godless coughing, and
Un-literary prowess?
Whispered screams
And puppy eyes,
You're barking mad.
When did you forget what poetry is?
Why...
Back when I would hold her like teardrops,
With no regard for my blistering scleras.
The browns of my eyes, scratched out,
Leaving no room but hers.
What man would allow to fall from his pupils,
The kiss of an angel's breath?
If her burnt lips
Scorch mine, so be it.
(She called and said,
_Do you miss me yet?_)
November's sting fails
To not haunt me.
_Is this a dagger, I-_
Kneel before you.
_Fil...
_(A bit of a brain dump idk)_
~~~
Door lock
Clicks shut,
Kids crack
Clavicles.
Ribcage crunching,
Fractured knuckles.
Clip clop,
Horseshoe,
Tail in the door, you
Lick lips,
Blacksmith,
Sugar cubes.
Fer the ribbon,
Fer the winnin',
Yer a good
Little boy.
Pretty beggar
Fer the sugar
And the toys
(Fer enjoy-
Ment)
Batter down the
Wall
When the door's unlocked,
Kids crack,
Bones snap
On the chop...
I snuffed me out / Or I thought I might.
Cross-legged on the floor: burn marks,
Charred / But I
Am melted wax
Seeping into my own /
Damned conscience.
Scorched.
Little boys burn brighter when they / Realise,
Time doesn't stop when you're extinguished.
Nobody waits if you slacken / So
Pack it up, man—
I picked me up / Or at least I tried.
I don't care
If you're burnt out;
Jack, be fucking nimbl...
It's seeping through my bones like some kind of poison:
Where brains meet the flesh,
Morality dissolves —
Obsession, now, the patron of the soul;
My Bible in hand, yet a weight.
I know
Styrofoam apples are perfect.
I am not sweet,
And I do not nourish.
You are Autumn leaves, you
Crumble beneath my winter boots.
Guilt cracks my clavicle, but I cannot refrain;
I remember, you were soaked in pain,...
We played hopscotch
On the chalk-board gravel,
Missed the lines, said
It's too much to handle
"Liar, liar," — couldn't see the markings,
Killed the squirrel,
Now your dog ain't barking.
Guilty-sounding
Secrets but they're all true
Just keep quiet, that's what Daddy told you
I was young, you
Always acted older
Burnt our sleeves off, right up to the shoulders
Torn bandannas, aluminium soldiers,
C...
What teenager sits at the bottom of the stairs
Counting the shoes at the door,
Counting the scratches on the shelf?
Writing crappy poems because
_my english teacher said to try harder._
2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 14, 16, 18, 20, 22 shoes.
11 pairs.
Counting to 22 does not fit with the _rhythm_
of what they call 'poetry',
but these numbers are _God._
I am the sum
of every rule book I have read,
and...
(I'm convinced this prompt is the cure for writer's block)
~
TW: suicidal ideation
~
Ask me who I am;
Berate me like my mother.
Clear your throat and
Dare to choke — a boy like any other.
Evade me if you must.
Forget about the stars
Gloating through the curtains when you
Hide behind those bars.
I might call tomorrow,
Jealousy soaked to the bone.
Kudos to your sister, never leaving you alone.
...
draft, needs editing
~~~
Deify me.
You know how I thrive on your idolatry.
I inject attention like a drug,
_(He hurls rejection, like a drunk),_
And I'm angry.
I fight with my fists and my poetry
_(He's afraid of himself and withdraws)._
I'm monstrous and confident; I
speak my mind.
_(His only battle _
_ is against his own claws)_
I am angry.
_(He's all talk.)_
Don't complimen...
