[x]

Waiting for a coach
and four
that never came,
she realized
a ball gown
won't bloom
out of sackloth;
glass slippers
are not dependable
and mice
are best left
to their own devices.
Midnight was never a friend,
and under that suit
he is the same as any other
man.

IcarusSun girl,

the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.

Do not let anyone
clip your wings;

you were made for the skies.

Definition of a Writerwrit•er

noun /rītər/

A writer is a person
Who sees the world differently
From a high perspective of understanding
To an easily balanced imagery

They stand at the edge of the cliff
And run that extra mile
To gain what a normal person cannot see
And to obtain the hope that they wish to cherish

A writer is a person
Who buries their ego and places boulders upon it
They learn the rules, follow the rules, and will break the rules
And make writing their own

They lay upon the dusty old ground of a graveyard
And do an annual ritual to free the inspiration that has been pinned down
They want to show their abnormality to everyone

Red DressDon’t put on your red dress
for he doesn’t know the meaning
he doesn’t want the commitment
he doesn’t care for the color.

The red dress you love to wear
that’s stained from wine and beer
but still carries so much meaning
for who could find a second red dress

Don’t go out on your red dress
for the man who wants nothing more
to screw around and doesn’t understand
the meaning behind a simple red dress.

A red dress for when you dance.
A red dress for when you cry.
A red dress for when you need it.
A red dress for when you care too much.

Don’t put on your red dress for him darling
he doesn&rsqu

i got flowers oncei am lonely.
i received flowers once
and i placed them
in a vase til
the petals all browned
desiccated
and turned to dust
on the glass of my bureau.

i have never gotten flowers since.

i spend my days
with a boy
a man
whom i love far beyond reason
and he holds me in his arms
and holds me together.

i bite my nails
and pull my hair
over the moment when he
inevitably
feels the disenchantment
fall over his body,
all clean lines
and smooth shapes,
and realises that leaving
the worst thing
would be
the best thing.

i am lonely
and even with a hand to hold,
and even with a cloak of security
bunching around my shoulders
and hiding my thighs,
i feel

moonshines in georgiaman on the moon:

giddy with lumps of north georgia seas
greased on the crease of my lips
gravity drips from couch-cavities
when tides belch from below --

burst on the water's edge,
earth's bourbon sailors retch in moonshined ripples
trickled blue murder on their crinkled crimes;
raking water wrinkles like a wayward drunk
stuck on sunken bootleggin' dreams.

it's been a long, long time
since I've drowned your hemisphere
for fishing like a moonraker,
swishing my bait-lines like tobacco's
squished in your shallow gums
before you dare to down my air
breathing in this sincere georgia night.

L.E.S.B.I.A.N.Living on the
Edge of life
Saving myself
Being who
I truly am
As it is all i can be
Never forget that

Blame The ParentsI won't be able to keep a relationship in the future because I'm scared
I'm scared it'll turn out like theirs

I'm a pacifist because I hate watching it
I hate watching them fight

I have PTSD because of their fights
Their fights almost broke up this family

I self harm because they are pushing me over the edge
I was already close to jumping, but they gave me an extra push

I'm always in my room because that's how I run away
I guess that's called "Like father, like daughter"

I only eat one meal a day because he constantly puts me down
Even though he's joking, I can tell he means every bit of what he says

I can't trust anyone because they do

Missing piecesMissing pieces

There are wounds
that never heal; silences
so loud they thunder - I stopped
breathing years ago, that night
the ice took my chest. Since then
I walk in pieces, howling
around my heart.

-SophieCT, 2012, 2013

field notesi read some poetry
just for the sound--for the words lilting up and down
and the thick, honeysepia
polaroids unmisting in my head.
those are the poems i never understand
and the only conclusion i can draw is:
there is apparently
some supernova poetic awakening that comes
with the loss of virginity
and basically i need to get laid.

Asperger's SyndromeAsperger’s Syndrome

This is what makes me different.
It is what makes me both distant and compassionate.
It is what makes me both tired and creative.
It is what makes me both sassy and awkward.
It is what makes me both fairly normal and completely insane at the same time.

This is what makes me amazing.
It is what gives me my talents and achievements.
It is what gives me my intelligence and ideas.
It is what gives me my humor and individuality.
It is what gives me my passion and dedication.

This is what makes me flawed.
It is what makes me confused and anxious.
It is what makes me exhausted and frustrated.
It is what makes me uncertai

MorningA black cat sleeps in a ray of sun
My coffee is lousy
Another cardboard morning
The day isn't a blank canvas
Waiting to be painted
Its already scrawled with
Yesterday's mad crayon drawings

Smoke drifts up and out of the window
I drink the coffee

van houten must be godi. you know how in embroidered cloth,
from the bottom under the design,
all you see are knots? her honey-like,
crying
voice lulls me to sleep,
that's what we see of God's plan.
just the knots. when in reality,
it's the design on top;
beautiful and flawless that He
has in store for us.
bullshit.
i learnt that word
when i was three
but every time i said it,
my face hurt and mom's hand fell.
God will put you
in hell.
do you want that?
i knew better than to say it again.
ii. you're an estimated
fallacy, the perfect
misconception.
you don't need to exist
for people to believe.
they make you real with
dancing tongues behind
a crowd
of murmuring lips of
god's will.
iii. of the rain,
i sang songs, whispering
prayers only you
could hear.
if you truly are
what they say for you to be,
then there are no secrets
between you and me.
mother still sings
the same songs
in the rain, hoping
you'll hear her the way
i thought you would.
but she doesn't know you died long ago
with chiv

blood-red wine and skeleton jazz i.
the day you left,
your cobweb dress clung to you in ways
that i would dream about for years,
in hot, fevered nights
when the moon thought it might burst
in the sky,
and even the wind wailed your name.

ii.
i remember how you called make-up war paint,
and you drew it across your face like a message
i could never decipher;
i remember how i got goosebumps when i heard
your heels clicking across the floor at 3am
when you finally got home and slipped into bed;
i remember longing for you with every fiber of my being,
feeling separate from you even when our clothes lay on the floor
and your fingernails dug into my shoulders
and your toes curled

thieves of nocturne skiesPaper lanterns are midnight requiems
That tell me to look beyond the
light and have &

Browse More Like This

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More from ~bloodguard

a plee against suicideHe stands in the field
Hanging gently
On the cross of his past
Surrounded by black marble roses
Dancing in a beautifully depressing manner
The mournful wind
Tussling the roses
Caressing his weary face
Whispering sweet hollow sorrows
Into his bleeding ears
As his heart drains of vitae
A rosewood stake
Shoved sloppily between his ribs
By forces divine
Enraging the Beast
Inciting Assault
As his will to live
Drips down the shaft
And pools about his feet
A crimson black void
Stretching far beneath him
As his wrists
Grind against the rusty nails
Struggling against his nine inch prisons
Pleading vehemently
For morose releas

Silver Razor BladesSilver razor blades,
Sharp as the crescent moon,
Dance across my wrists
Like little children
Frolicking in brimstone paved streets

Chanting in demonically angelic voices
"Dust to Dust"

As gentle clumps of ash
Comes snowing down

Their corpse grey skin
Draws tight against their face
And ribs

As black malformed wings,
Shriveled and crippled,
Sprout from their backs

Their skin flaking off with the ash
As they slowly ascend

Full black wings
Dripping with mucus and blood,
Supporting their limp bodies
Cadavers of vacant hopes,
And long dead dreams

Returning to where
They had fallen from

Urban DecayI walk down this street
Cobbled with misshapen hopes
And broken glass dreams
As massive skeletons
Of black marble
Reinforced by cold steel girders
Shells of hollow grey hope
Tower above me
Vast empty libraries
Of my meaningless achievements
And pointless accomplishments
Chronicling
In random order
Every failure
To grace my life
As the tips of the mausoleums
Viciously scrape and claw
At the crimson dead mushroom clouds
Evicting gouts of blood rain
That pours down
And soaks my naked body
Flowing down the deep contours
The troughs and trenches
Criss crossing and cross crissing
Of scars long unhealed
And meat uncured

Cigarette DreamsChaotic origami
of news paper trash
strewn amongst the hobos
and slums
stirs
As smog tainted wind
Oozes through the streets
Rattling the ashen souls
Of the unliving masses
Huddling together
Flanked by
Steel monoliths
That reach for the heavens
Clawing at the color drained sky
Monuments
And Testaments
To human ingenuity
And tombstones
To human hope
As each soul
Trapped by the steel girders
Entombed in glass prisons
Wallow in apathy
Their hearts caked in ash
And their souls gently smolder
Til their embers fade
And they're cast aside
Like a used cigarette
And trampled on
By humanity

ReLive ReLife ReWindMy old addictions come calling back
crawling back
Wracking me
Raping me
Devouring me
Chewing me up
and spitting me out
Bruised and bloodied
From the countless cuts
That make me sigh
And make me cry
And make me want
TO DIE
And the blades cry out
And call my name
Appeal to my pain
And its the same again
A fastforward flashback
Reliving my past
One razor
One blade
One cut
At a time

Seas of HateI just want to reach
over
and tear up the paper
on the ground,
rubbing the shattered edges
against my arm
Shedding blood
and skin
down it
trickles of blood,
pulses of blood,
streams of blood,
gouts of blood,
onto the floor.
Forming oceabs of blood
in which ships trading only in which
Ships
Dealing only in sorrow and hatred
sail
their sailors drowning in tears.
Of rage.
Bull meat and salt, served aside a cup of warm milk.
To calm my nerves
And work in my spine
Up to the dreaded mantel
Of my brain
The darkest abyss
Of the most putrid thoughts
A swamp of guerillas
Waiting for an innocent thought
L

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Heart Leech

by ~bloodguard, Feb 26, 2003, 9:21:46 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Why does this wraith
Haunt me
And stalk me
Tearing at my soul
With filth encrusted claws
Whittling away
At the nub
Of my sanity
Lurking in my shadow
Stalking every step
Seeping in
The cracks of my mind
Filling every thought
With doubt
And every hope
A poisoned well
Twisting every passing idea
Innocent and pure
Into inhuman monstrosities
Dripping with sinful venom
Visions of massacres
Suicides
And bleeding razor blades
Bittersweet cum filled dreams
spurt their way
Into existence
Dowsing my eyes
With lust
and discord
Visions of both sexes
Fucking my mind
And every blade
Is opium laced
Appealing to my flesh
Every cloud
Lined with coal
Foreshadowing imminent doom
As this ghast
Suckles at my heart
Draining me of life
And strength
Til nothing is left
But a husk
Of what I was

Heart Leechby ~bloodguard

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Just another depression poem... write too many of them, I know. But oh well... easy cum easy go. I want to dedicate this one too affirmation... he seems to understand me alot and that is cool...So this one is for your man. Enjoi.

~fetalexplosion Mar 4, 2003 Writer

I like
'visions of both sexes fucking my mind'
and yeah, i've gotten my fill of dark poetry lately but this is pretty good

~smokedragon Feb 28, 2003

You've done an excellent job illustrating the feeling of being pulled in several directions at once (including down) in here, and the resulting drain, and the stark images drive said emotions straight through the heart like an ice bullet. I know how it is when all that seems to want to come out is depressing...I've been that way a lot lately. Just remember that expressing it is a lot easier on your mind than leaving it unnamed and viciously circling inside. Just keep expressing...something different is bound to come along sometime and then you can express that too :) (Smile)