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Hand and foot, Hip and breastHear the ever-wonderful =TwilightPoetess read this aloud here!
And now I understand the depths
to which a woman must sink, must
dig herself into, must push past with hand
and foot, hip and breast. It is not light I seek
but solidness. Not spring air soft against
my cheek, but the scalding touch of lava
forced for so long to be silent and still
now worming through a cracked
and weeping crust. It seeks explosions
because affection must be dramatic.
But the sky will not love it
as thoroughly as I do.

And now I understand the impossible
permanence of night-lit words.
They linger in the valley between my wrist
and fingers; stow themselves in my freckles.
I cannot erase their presence, ignore
their weight -- only hope for a lover
who will burn away your shape.

But I understand hope to be a fickle
and most unfortuna

Riding BikesGoing off medication is like riding a bike.

The doctor holds tight to my handlebars and lowers my dosage. The training wheels are off, and oh hey, look at me go! It's like flying but not, and I'm doing so well but then there's a horrible accident and I'm somehow upside down at the bottom of the sea with both wheels still spinning.

"Help," I say, and my doctor pats my head, puts a band-aid on my knee, and writes a note on my chart.

I've balanced by myself for months at a time, but I always end up hitting a fucking tree or falling off a cliff or something equally catastrophic because I am a catastrophic person. Except that is an exaggeration

neverlandi'm giving myself ten minutes to grow up,
and with every minute that passes i am remembering
balloons and party hats and streamers
and the second star to the right,
straight on 'til morning.

every year i write myself a poem for my birthday,
but this year i think i'll write a poem about
peter pan and he'll die in the end and everyone
will be sad. i'll be the saddest though,
because there comes a point in your life
when you realize that you're not peter pan,
or wendy, or even a lost boy.

(how sad, i think, to be lost but not a lost boy.
it doesn't matter though, because neverland isn't
real and now look, i'm another year

Dance of The Fallen

Dance of The Fallen

I walk onto the dance floor
And am surrounded by ghosts of summer's past
They dance around me wearing faceless masks
Each move with such grace and beauty
I know it is too good to last
Faster and faster the figures dance
To soon do I stumble
Giving myself away
Each covered face turns my way
Suspecting me of being something
Different, Strange
I realize then I am not a faceless creature
A hateful bane
I am bright and vibrant
Something that should not be covered
Or smothered by other's selfish spite
I reject your masks
Your hateful ways
For I am me and I will never be tamed
So I continue dancing

InvisibleShe’s in plain sight, but the world doesn’t see
One of these days she’s gonna break free
She will leave behind a life full of pain
She will escape those suffering days
Not one more tear will ever fall from her eyes
Never again will she be despised
Death, at last- it is such a welcome thing
An endless sleep with nary a dream
No more nightmares that never seem to end
Gone, a life that never had a friend

no one warned the little girlssometimes you will fall in love with
the hands or with the jawline, not with
the penis. watch out for boys whose eyes
are rougher than their voices. little girls
love hard and fast, and it is a lie to say
that words will never hurt you.

kissing in the rain is not romantic. it's cold
and wet, and your nipples will be like pebbles
digging into his skin. he'll wipe water from your
lashes, and, if he is polite, he'll pretend
not to notice his thumb blackened by mascara.
later as he sleeps you will watch his lips,
unable to feel anything except your hair
curled damply against your skin.

when you were young, sex was strange
an

Coffee And Cigarettesyou just hate the fact that
the words 'coffee' and 'cigarettes' are
pouring out of my mouth a little more
liberally now (dousing your ideals)
and that i like the idea of them
but you don't hate me, no
words are never enough to hate someone

waves
i'm in love with the ocean,
although i've never been.
it's just so calming;
the dark waters churning,
r a g i n g;
it drives me out to sea.

it arrivedimpale yourself on your own damn words,
drive the pen like an angry lover

rub cream on your knees where the purple-blossom bruises grow
make a bet on the number of tequila shots you can down before passing out

wake with your head in the toilet,
perfectly clean

a santitized breakdown when all you wanted was some good old-fashioned alley dumpster dirt.

the perfect strangershe misses colin the most at night, when, waking from nightmares, her hand reaches out into the darkness for someone who is no longer there.

-

an unexpected message flares briefly on her screen, long enough for her heart to drop into her stomach in surprise—her ex-boyfriend's little sister's ex-boyfriend? sighing, she types a hello and strains her memory to recall what she knows of this boy from their one brief meeting. his name is aaron. tall. shaggy bed-head hair. sleepy hazel eyes. she lightly touches the keyboard, entertaining the notion that other people might feel as lonely at night as she does.

"tell me a secret," she types to

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you can't make them love you.He is beautiful, new, unexplored.  He has wanted to kiss her ever since they met one week ago and fell prey to helpless chemistry.

         “Don’t,” she says, moving her hands in a subconscious “yes” pattern along his arm as he rubs his cheek against hers. “You don’t even know my favourite colour.” The wind cuts through her thin jacket, and his chest is so warm.

         “Red,” he guesses, improbably correct. His ears are cold.

         “And h

glittering, struggling.i.

"i am going to make every person
around me as happy as i can,"
i bravely declare.

"you should get a job," you offer,
and i draw a heart on a whiskey
bottle and say that making people
happy is my new job.

"you should get a paying job,"
you clarify, and i fill the whiskey
bottle with glitter and kiss you
until it doesn't matter anymore.

you don't need money if you're
dead.

iii.

i tell you that i'm going to leave
because even if it hurts now, it will
eventually make you happy, and
you refuse to speak to me for
the rest of the night.

and here i thought i had
all of the answers.

v.

you joke about going to med scho

kitestrings.you confessed that when you were little you would pull apart monarch butterflies because they were much too beautiful--
so beautiful that they made you feel uneasy.

(you always did call me the most beautiful thing you'd ever known.)

it's almost december now, and the only reason i wish you were here is so you could make snow angels and i could rip off their wings.

---

you wanted a kite for your birthday, so i got you one that was shaped like a bat and we took it to the beach, watched it crash into the surf over and over until it was bent and broken. i rescued it from the tide and surfaced dripping saltwater -- you told me i looked like t

compulsive liar.once i asked you your favourite
colour, and you said, "the brown
of your eyes," so i put in one green
contact and told everyone that i
came out of the womb as a factory
defect, half-priced, damaged goods.

-

sometimes i am from canada and
sometimes i am from england and
sometimes i am from spain.

i've carefully tempered my accents
and plotted out my stories with
yellow and purple coloured pencils
on index cards. my origin changes
like the seasons.

"why do you lie to everyone?" you
ask.

"why not?" i reply.

-

i wear nametags that read "alicia"
and "liana" and "samantha," because
i want to know how it feels to be
someon

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train trestleby ~estallidos

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Visual & Found Poetry

©2012-2013 ~estallidos

things that have interested me lately:

-draw something. (let's play! my username is kelsey r. or understandably. i don't actually get how this shit works.)

- tumblr. (let's ... tumble! [link])

-lucid dreaming. (let's escape the shackles of reality!)

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=minninnewah Mar 10, 2013 Student Writer

Wow, really not what I was expecting. Very powerful and elegantly worded.

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~X-RAES Dec 21, 2012 Hobbyist

I love your work! Can't stop stalking your gallery haha

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~estallidos Dec 21, 2012 Professional Writer

aw, yay! stalk away

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~xpheonix57 Sep 26, 2012

As many times as I've read this, it still makes me shiver.

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~toska9 Jun 4, 2012

How very poignant!
A lovely compelling poem. Well done!

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=DailyLitDeviations Jun 3, 2012

Your wonderful literary work has been chosen to be featured by DLD (Daily Literature Deviations) in a news article that can be found here [link]
Be sure to check out the other artists featured and show your support by

ing the News Article.

Keep writing and keep creating.

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~arabesque-o Jun 1, 2012 Student Photographer

_{this is amazing.}

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=LadyofGaerdon May 8, 2012 Professional Writer

Hi! You have been featured by The Favorites Project at #LITplease!

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~estallidos May 20, 2012 Professional Writer

wow, thank you!

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=LadyofGaerdon May 20, 2012 Professional Writer

You're very welcome.

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