deepundergroundpoetry.com
such a drug
there are certain things i have noticed since;
like how roads i found beautiful are now
just roads
and they sometimes scare me because i am reminded
of accidents and
abandonned bodies and lightning is so much prettier
on the palm of my hand than
in photographs
sometimes i forget to breath and have to
remind myself it is okay to
live a little while longer
because something on the other side is
pulling my curiosity
i think Ian Curtis and i could be good friends
when i kiss a boy i no longer feel
sweet but like expired products so
sour and wasted because i
kiss lips and dream of tobacco
seeping between my teeth into my lungs
because a body of deterioration only consumes
what's bad for it
there are certain things i cannot chase after
now like seven shooting stars
that left empty handed
because i had nothing in me to
wish for
and time
i can never stop time
so i
watch the skies turn brighter hoping for another shooting star because
i wish for a while
i had pushed myself deeper into sleep
so i never had to wake
to another day of figuring out
who i am
but reality
is always about what's too late and
out of reach
like how roads i found beautiful are now
just roads
and they sometimes scare me because i am reminded
of accidents and
abandonned bodies and lightning is so much prettier
on the palm of my hand than
in photographs
sometimes i forget to breath and have to
remind myself it is okay to
live a little while longer
because something on the other side is
pulling my curiosity
i think Ian Curtis and i could be good friends
when i kiss a boy i no longer feel
sweet but like expired products so
sour and wasted because i
kiss lips and dream of tobacco
seeping between my teeth into my lungs
because a body of deterioration only consumes
what's bad for it
there are certain things i cannot chase after
now like seven shooting stars
that left empty handed
because i had nothing in me to
wish for
and time
i can never stop time
so i
watch the skies turn brighter hoping for another shooting star because
i wish for a while
i had pushed myself deeper into sleep
so i never had to wake
to another day of figuring out
who i am
but reality
is always about what's too late and
out of reach
Published 12th Jan 2010
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 0
comments 3
reads 894
Commenting Preference:
The author has chosen not to accept new comments at this time.
Anonymous
24th Aug 2011 8:05pm
[lightning is so much prettier
on the palm of my hand than
in photographs] This is where the poem began for me. Everything before it is not poetic.
If you studiously pared this down it could be quite effective instead of rambling. Also, punctuation should be your friend.
"Lightning is so much prettier
on the palm of my hand than
in photographs.
Sometimes
I forget to breath
and have to remind myself
it is okay to live a little longer,
while something on the other side is
pulling my curiosity.
Kissing no longer tastes sweet,
but like expired products
sour and wasted.
I press against lips and dream
of tobacco seeping between my teeth
into my lungs:
a body of deterioration only consumes
what's bad for it.
I cannot chase seven shooting stars
that left empty handed;
I had nothing in me to wish for.
I can never stop time,
so I watch the skies turn brighter
hoping for another shooting star.
I wish I had pushed myself deeper into sleep
so I never had to wake
to figuring out
who I am.
Self actualization.
It seems so out of reach.
on the palm of my hand than
in photographs] This is where the poem began for me. Everything before it is not poetic.
If you studiously pared this down it could be quite effective instead of rambling. Also, punctuation should be your friend.
"Lightning is so much prettier
on the palm of my hand than
in photographs.
Sometimes
I forget to breath
and have to remind myself
it is okay to live a little longer,
while something on the other side is
pulling my curiosity.
Kissing no longer tastes sweet,
but like expired products
sour and wasted.
I press against lips and dream
of tobacco seeping between my teeth
into my lungs:
a body of deterioration only consumes
what's bad for it.
I cannot chase seven shooting stars
that left empty handed;
I had nothing in me to wish for.
I can never stop time,
so I watch the skies turn brighter
hoping for another shooting star.
I wish I had pushed myself deeper into sleep
so I never had to wake
to figuring out
who I am.
Self actualization.
It seems so out of reach.
25th Aug 2011 1:21am
Hello,
hmm, reading from your previous comments, i think you're more of a structured poet. I'd understand that you are giving tips on how to write in a better structure, but i do hope also that you understand that my style has always been disjointed, edgy, and just not a typical form of poetry. for me, it is not about the punctuation or structures.
i thank you for your critique, but i also have my own style of writing. ramblings and rants, the disturbance, and imperfection of the mind is what i always portray in my poems.
thanks :)
hmm, reading from your previous comments, i think you're more of a structured poet. I'd understand that you are giving tips on how to write in a better structure, but i do hope also that you understand that my style has always been disjointed, edgy, and just not a typical form of poetry. for me, it is not about the punctuation or structures.
i thank you for your critique, but i also have my own style of writing. ramblings and rants, the disturbance, and imperfection of the mind is what i always portray in my poems.
thanks :)
14th Aug 2012 9:06am
