Tag: poets of tumblr

i will celebrate the fact
that my life has been carved
into my skin for everyone 
to read.

i am no longer ashamed of
the way i laugh or  
the size of my heart– like
the bread we break,
take a piece
to keep in your pocket.
it will not grow stale,
i promise.

sometimes i feel i have enough
to feed the world.

this universe is a pitcher 
i cannot fill, though i pour
myself into it completely
inside 
out.

i devour authenticity
and the freedom of
opening my mouth and
letting whatever is inside
fall to the ground.

by its nature, undestroyed // a.s.m

ethereal child, 
even the devil wants to see
the world through your eyes. 
look how they pine. 

ethereal child, 
you have ensnared him, 
no longer red with
lust, but the color of
your vitreous soul. 

ethereal child, do you
feel his fiery fingers
around your forearms,
injecting you like needles?

let go, let go
let the fire burn.

dance with the devil // a.s.m

familiar stranger
new friend
tell me of the time we crossed
once before
under the wisteria.
i’ll meet you there– halfway
between the poppies
and forever.
your voice a nocturne,
notes i’ve never fallen asleep
to before: i cannot
quite tell where it is
within me that you dwell.
do you sing a song of this
universe, or one of
dreams?

magis quam ante // a.s.m

for the first time, 
i feel a different kind
of alive. 

something is sprouting
within me: a hunger for
the taste of your skin
on my lips, your warmth 
beside me.

i’ve always used a
fork and knife, never
indulged the animal
inside.

but tonight you look
so good.
tonight, i think
i could.

full moon // a.s.m

you can jump out of an airplane but
be too scared to ask your waitress
for ketchup.

there is no method to the madness
we are. 

but i know you will make room
in your heart for the things
you are on fire for, because
those are what keep you living.
when you want something badly enough,
you will face your fears for it.

you can do the thing: i promise you will conquer your fears for the things you love // a.s.m

it was my first word
at thirteen months old
and my first word to you when
i met you on the train to Zurich.
do you remember? we huddled
next to each other in our seats
and with warm breath whispered
about our dreams
while the rain hit the windows.
this was your seventh stop
on a journey to see the world,
i was looking for a corner to call home.
 

excitement numbed our lips, teeth
hit teeth and
we laughed
bumping noses 
warm breath
warm breath and
you could almost feel the magnetic
field around us in
that little corner of the world as
it rolled past in our windows.

hello // a.s.m

dear little egg, you’re
going to open your eyes
for the first time in a white
room, not knowing that 
my childhood home is now
underwater. and when 
you are older, i will let
you run in the back yard
without shoes on, but
you will never know the comfort
of sinking into healthy
soil. you will never understand
what it means to make a mark on
the earth that does not hurt
it. 
seven years’ worth of leaves
will still be decaying, and 
i will not know how to explain 
where they came from. 
i will not know how to explain
to you that other beings used to
live here, too, or
that there was once another planet
underneath a green canopy and
in autumn, the skies would 
bathe in fire.

i hope we’ll be living with windmills // a.s.m

with her, it’s like art. 
it’s wanting to know
every single detail about her
down to what she tastes like,
down to what she sounds like
when she’s begging.
down to her dirty little secrets.
down to the parts of herself
one can only uncover beneath the
sheets.

sex // a.s.m