Beautiful Mess.Beautiful Mess.
So you know that girl who’s always at lunch by herself, always at home by herself, a complete loner? Yes, well you've just met me. Quiet, shy, completely ignorant of every form of human being, my name is Violet.
I’m a freshman at Groverdale High this year, and well, let’s just say that school is not my cup of tea. Knowing that I have to go right back to that hell hole every Monday through Friday doesn't give me a lot off motivation. It’s only been a week since the school year began, and I literally feel like I’m dying. I don’t mind being a loner, I mean, I’ve always been one, but the continuous glaring at me is aggravating. At my old school I passed through the halls like a ghost, I was invisible, and I liked it that way. I’m certain that only two people, aside from some of the teachers, in that entire school new my name. I was fine there, but here, here it’s a different story.
According to my observations, the only
A Better Day.Hush hush, don't cry, rid of those teardrops in your eye. I hate to see you feel this way, but realize all this pain won't stay. Forget me, forget the past, don't let your memories last. I'm really not worth the pain or sorrow. A brighter day will come tomorrow.
Broken.He's broken and bruised, unsure of which path to choose. They've loved for a while, but lately, he can't seem to make her smile. He tries his hardest, he tries his best.. it's starting to seem like an impossible test. There's two different choices, only one you can choose. Choose the one that makes you happy, after all, there's only one way you can lose.
For You.I'd cry for you, I'd die for you, I'd run a thousand miles for you.
Through all my pain and sorrow too, I'd still manage a smile for you.
Poem.I know what I'm doing is rude and wrong,
but Honey, let's face it, I can't stay strong.
I'm broken and bruised every single day,
I thought that it might, but it doesn't help to pray.
You reassure me you're not leaving, you'll always stay true,
I hope you keep your promises because I love you.
Some people think things just go to my head,
but i'm not kidding, if you leave me, I'd rather be dead.
The Flesheaters"Oh my gosh, could you be quiet for once?! I'm starting to fail this class, and you know why because you won't stop talking! I can't hear anything the teacher's saying!" "Jeez Izzy, don't freak out dude. I'll stop talkin' okay, if you think that will boost your grade up " Matt laughed sarcastically.
"Man, if we weren't in school right now..." Izzy muttered under his breath.
"What would you do to me? Beat me up? Tell on me?" Matt asked curiously.
"Well, you'd find out then, wouldn't you?" Izzy said.
"Wow man, you're so scary! I think I'm gonna go home and cry to my mommy!" Matt laughed.
"You just watch your back man, karma is gonna come back and get you for all the things you say to people." warned Izzy.
"Eh... I don't believe in karma, I choose my own future." Matt laughed.
"Okay bud, you just keep on thinkin' that in that smart little brain of yours." Izzy smirked.
"Hey man! I do have a smart brain! So don't try and be cool by rippin' on me like that!" Matt yelled.
there's something fatal about coughing up verse.i got written up for writing poetry on the desks
i don't think they liked the language i used
when i wrote how my heart was beating
like headboards against the walls of people fucking
at 3 am to the sounds of joy division
whenever you read me paintings at dawn.
they were going to send me to the counselor,
but i said my therapist probably wouldn't like that,
so they just let me go.
but this saturday, when i'm cleaning lives off of every desk in school,
i'll just be thinking how much i'd rather be sitting on your roof
and laughing when we argue about rimbaud
and sighing as we start to die.
ElenaElena followed me home
from work one night
and stayed for tea and eggs,
and all that minimum wage
and wars between the sheets
She said she was a goddess,
daughter of a carpenter
with her long red, red hair
and eyes as warm as hazel nuts
on Christmas morning.
Her hands spoke braille
across my back
and made the silence
of Sunday into a prophecy.
She left one October
just like she said she would
when the fireflies
had turned their wings to ash.
And I found revelation
in red, red wine
and cheap red, red fabric
that came off in my hands
The Owl's RiddleYou come and ask me,
but you don't always understand my answers.
You meet me in the night,
but I'm not a bird of darkness.
Venom QuillVenom Quill 9/26/14
I'll tattoo you with a poison quill
all the venom I will spill
So all the misery you imbued
will permanently stick to you.
I cannot find any time
when you did not feed me lines.
So I will etch on you all the
pain inside my skin
until the message sinks right in.
WineHead on a patisserie table
with a wine-scented napkin
that I scrawled your name all over
in the hopes it might necromance
or just romance you
to this place, at this time,
so we could be together again
and although the guitarist knows
that I'm broken beyond blue
I keep reaching for the bottle
in the hopes it might recreate
or just replicate
short history of the universe(what it's like is anne sexton quoting van gogh about sometimes having a terrible need for religion)
A lake slams into a bus and a city is unborn.
Enter an ocean of fog and then desert after desert stacked above the hills.
Then you get drunk as fuck near the tumbling skyline,
and this god damned room burns like prayer in your chest.
Then many missing scientists reappear in your brittle beach,
and your satellites in relapse all bending,
and what it's like is some kind of disaster, honestly;
the arms and the aerosol and the linen and the light.
And the rumble forwarding the sovereign wreck saying
survive yourself like you've survived me;
saying the game-changing theory was that everything is always moving,
and same for the carousal shadow bleeding through the mountain in your dream,
same for your silence and the sudden red rain of witnesses.
And then what unconquerable continents,
what strange forecast occupied via gate via wind and wave-
multitudes of sick yellow branch
to the ghosts with you, my deari came not to be kissed,
or to have myself cradled
in the curve of a throat,
but to be broken,
to be diminished
by your lack of affection
& over indulgence of sexualization.
uneducated in your intent,
found myself left entirely whole
& incapable of the fury
i had sought to sow between the
ridges of my aching ribs.
the polar opposite of translucencycradled in the echo
of a cloudburst,
the earth curls invisible fingers
about my achilles' tendon
she cries that i am not
intended for the clouds,
that my mind must not wander
between their susurrous concaves
furious with her insistence,
untether myself from the soft,
diaphonous comfort of the heavens
down into the weight of gravity.
listless green blades welcome my soles,
stimulating a tickle,
a sneeze; i never have done well
she is calling for me,
soft-tongued and crisp in her
& i am sorely tempted
i am not for the soil.
she becomes my inhale;
my alveoli shudder
beneath her force--
i am not for the air, either.
i stand beneath her onslaught
until she tires,
her molten heart beating beneath my toes;
unable to woo me with her facets,
cloaking me in one last attempt,
a final shadow.
my pores bloom
& i r