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r.s.v.p.what I'd really like
is someone who won't make me
feel ashamed to feel

disposable assetsI've been writing poems
none of which are about you
(except for this one)

eskimo movies at the...oh, I see.

she wants a steady hand, and smooth script
stretching towards infinity.
she wants those wanton words
wrapped in needless syllables.
she wants what she wants. what she wants
is not this.

not my short & stumbling text; one word
tumbling towards the next. not these
scribbled, sloppy secrets; chopped up
and half-confessed. she'd much rather view
a ten-cent vocabulary flexed...

but I digress.

my hopeless,
broken english
speaks volumes.

mostly, it talks about me.

sometimes, it says "hey!
we're doing new & exciting things
with heartbreak,
down here."

sometimes, it just
screams
and screams
and screams
a

confession flavoredwe made love long-distance
and not-quite-leaving
an art form

my forlorn reflection
and her quiet
storm flickering
freezing
a frame
all unfocused

we've been
hushed and
soft spoken
bits wed to
pieces in piles
of broken
parts
(between
miles
and memory)

see

his story
makes
the most
of
history

while hers
prefers
to masquerade
as mystery

and no intention's
path
is what
it appears
to be

truth is
I'm no
angel

she just
scares
the
hell
out of me

available nowlove is like a bruise
lurking just beneath your skin
begging to be born

Memo To Myselfdon't fade away!

eat vitamins
walk in the sun

make the time
to take the time
to breathe
and be
the beauty
that surrounds you

recapture your spark!

eat with your hands and
talk to strangers

from the proper angle
every face looks like
an angel's
each moment
bears the makings
of a miracle

have a little faith!

throw caution to the wind
leap without looking

life would lack for love
without a little
falling
find the future
full of feeling
at your fingertips

lean in for the last blowi guess i did swing with purpose
so i suppose i should grin
because i connected
intent with actions
and you
conscious with stars and polka-dots
still
we're two halves
of some have not
our purpose pinned
we're spinning blind
that game taste
lingers

as you float
in a swarm of small moons
i stumble for a reason
paying penance to charm karma
i just can't
wrap my lazy lips around
all these new words for god
and for mistake
and everything that may
come after
in the dark
we are unmaking

a show of colorful language
replicas of blanks
and phrases
posed just so
you have invented me
enveloping my conscience
i am a direct

endless endingswell
the spark took a twist
scissor-spit from her lips
a subtle shift and infinite
is simply split into bits
direct hit!
you're spinning sick
sinking quick and unmissed
every cheap trick unveiled
now scratched from your list
but that itch
it still persists
perching there on your wrist
sits downsleeve from your heart
or what's left of it
and what's this?
love's laid to rest
without a proper obit
affections decimated
transmit to your wits
"just quit."
this deficit
that demands you submit
is a doubt
without benefit
it befits
the charred remains
of a fire once lit

bear color for youlove, I let you
linger on
in places yet unseen
in the silent space
between
initial sparks
and how we're wired
my

dear, you are
discovered in
every memory undeparted
every poem I've ever
started
even haunting
odd synapses fired
I

fear, forever
following
a hand unclasped (still shaken)
a heart unheard until it's
taken
time to rest
uncommon sense retired
why

it's my
attempt
to ingest
starshine
'til admired!

it's my
intent
to become
all you
have desired.

you came along
sun-shaded
and drifting

in tune to melody made long
with notes that bend
then recede
on the
inside

days grew into
nights grew into
ways to waste
what worries us

and in their place
I pressed a pin
alight with angels
'neath the surface
spread that
silken germ
blooming deep
alive with purpose

love's a language
poorly spoken
dirt deserves us

afterthoughts are people tooimagine that

loving someone
and having the strength
to do something about it

faster faster stop[an unperson poem]

each
time
that I left
you found me
more
appealing

'til your
face
was just a
shape I'd
create
in the white
specks of my
ceiling
but

memories fade
and our soft
paint
is peeling
with each
graceless mistake
it flakes and
falls revealing

an immense
lack of faith
and feigned
lustre concealing
cracks in our
foundation
and the baseness
of our feelings
grown

faint
like a
fate
I no longer
believe in...

[and epilogue]

(I once
hoped we
might ignite
but we
don't
don't
don't
don't

I used to
wait on
your return

now I pray
you wont)

requiem for a resurrectionwatch

watch
where you lay your
hands

keep that sharkjaw grin in check
I'm counting teeth
and I believe
in skindeep songs
dancin' electric
building damaged stars
and heart-shaped scar
tissue
I said watch

watch
where you lay
your hands

'cuz I remark to emptiness
and I explain
in jest
shaping words like holes
to make a home
inside your chest so
swallow
swallow big!
(make room for nothing)
just watch

watch
where you lay
those
hands

the hardest parts1.

the thing about
your ribcage
is

I can see
my house
from there

2.

you make a
fist and
I make a
fist and
we end up
holding hands

because I know you're...you mouth
Bukowski
beautifully
but I'm ready
to try
your own tongue

I'm delighted
you discovered
sex & selfishness
substance(s) & circumstance
excelling at art
excrement & experimentation

exposing your
pretend
private parts

I know how
sometimes
your heart breaks
over the sounds
those empty words make
and everything reminds you
of everything you're not

you're bruised
drowning in booze
and forever in love
with yourself

I get it

now

give me something real

Browse More Like This

More from `YouInventedMe

three old pieces I found9-14-03

there was nothing we could do when
they finally came for us. I mean, what can
you do when the darkest parts of your
dreams burst forth into a horrid mockery
of life? they picked us off regardless of
the circumstances - one at a time or in a large
group. whether you were by yourself or with
your loved ones, you were still dead. in
the end it made no difference. we all
die alone. you'll find that out soon enough.

9-15-03

the walls are closing in. deadlines mounting to
eventually crush us all. deadlines, dead inside.
I am becoming less than I once was instead
of more. you feed, and feed, and feed, until
there is not

we signed our names...I struck a bargain with my biological father
he keeps to contracts & dispensing dollars
and
I'll keep trying to make sense
of this perfect little world of ours
one
non-profit
word
at
a
time

swing low, sweet Roswell...hundreds of dollars
two southern cops
and a border patrol search
later

we found ourselves
setting up
for the big shakedown

armed with wide eyes
and dulled wits
we were ready
for anything

even the ever encroaching desert
arid & alluring
as some sun-baked siren
sweetly singing of half-remembered promises
and unfulfilled madness

the true american dream

betting it all on red
white
and black
while muttering incantations about
father's latest footwear
and being thrown out of only
the finest places

all hands on deck
for the most triumphant
distress signal
ever
heard

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find one real bit of feeling

by `YouInventedMe, Nov 10, 2008, 2:39:08 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Haiku & Eastern

do me a favor
no more love, no more later
this time, just stay gone

3,339

173 184 45

find one real bit of feelingby `YouInventedMe

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with sugar on top

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Submitted on: November 10, 2008
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~Kanjimaru67 Jan 20, 2012

This is absolutely wonderful.

Unfortunately, I can relate to this.

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`YouInventedMe Jan 24, 2012 Writer

much obliged

Reply

~gypsyfoxdancer Oct 7, 2011

Ha ha. That is really good. The sugar part made me laugh. I know what you mean though about "just stay gone.".

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`YouInventedMe Oct 11, 2011 Writer

thank ya much

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~hell-on-a-stick Oct 30, 2009

sometimes we need a stake.

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`YouInventedMe Nov 1, 2009 Writer

I'm mister stake, I've met my share of misses.

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~hell-on-a-stick Nov 2, 2009

misses and prisses
like kisses
but we know
many of them
are just bitches.

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`YouInventedMe Nov 2, 2009 Writer

in the words of Yoni Wolf

kisses are stitches
no mitt for these pitches

Reply

~hell-on-a-stick Nov 3, 2009

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~krish-x Jan 19, 2009 Student Writer

awesome. [=

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