poetry. "You said."

I thought i'd put up some recent poetry (recent meaning written today, so they're not fully edited.) but here goes.

i want pretty words now, you said. i want to paint with words that don't bruise, and don't make you cry when you hear them. 

I want words that dance around themselves in ambient light or just under the faint twinkling of the stars. 

I want you to smile when you hear them, laugh when you speak them, touch you in a way that lightens you until you float. 

i want these words to express you.

but what if my expression clashes and dashes, and cuts, and paints a mean jackson pollock. and what if the lilacs behind your house don't remind you of me.

and what if you having your pretty words means i have to give up my bad words, and i cant fling paint at him or cuss him out or just scream if he hurts me.

and what if you take my cutting words away and i'm left with nothing to say, and then i'm just silent.

silence cuts deep, too. 

but if you still want your pretty words, take them. take the tiptoeing words and whispers and the silent screams, and the tears that fall noiselessly to the ground, and do with them what you please. 

take the shuffles and hesitations, and those pauses between words, just take them, and put them all together into one big quiet.

why don't you silence the world while you're at it, hand out breaks, and beats, and rests, and don't let anyone get a word out until revolution and everyone's mad, and just wants to let everything out, and then all that's left are those angry words.

but if you want pretty words, go ahead, take them and use them. just don't paint me with them.

Shimmery Black Holes & Dead Stars

Sometimes I wonder if you’re actually here.

Or if you’re floating between two worlds

not really sure which one is real.

Am I some mirage you stumbled upon
in a drunken state, that you see
but don’t understand how it got there
or whether or not it will disappear in the next moment?

Is the effervescent irridescence ethereal

or do those shiny things we wish on last forever?

Is forever really what it seems, or are those

supposedly logical people relying on an

infinity that doesn’t actually exist?

Sometimes I wonder if you actually see me
or if I’m transparent, like a fog hanging over
a still-sleeping town.

[for stars will rise again. tumblr, ffffound]