Poetically Profound


Idolize the idyllic
Ideally I’d be penning manuscripts
Scraping off the mistakes like they were acrylic
Constantly caught in a state of paralysis
Nothing’s for certain
But I can still spot the violence in the midst of your irises
Why resist?
I’m just trying to be perfect
Demeanor and features that of a basilisk
I’m sometimes misconstrued with immaculate
Dispersing aversion
As nostalgic as this inertia
Almost as if we’re waiting the birth of
Some arriving Christ
Salvation comes with an asterisk
As if I got sunshine in a bag
A happy kind of sad
Grasping at Manhattan
Draw a skyline on my wrist
And watch me fly, watch me soar
Watch me fly, watch me soar…
Until I’m no longer sore anymore
Drained the pain from these veins
A metropolis from my lips
Paint the city red with my blood, baby
Better off pretending I don’t even exist

the detrimental effects of closet metrosexuality and the inbred inflammability of the corduroy industry


sobriety is my sunshine
       whiskey is my shade

I am sleeping
       rabid dog

don’t tell me no white lies
   I prefer black eyed truth
      the dull pain of hopelessness

I spread the rage:

the cruise control is set
   to the speed limit
and I am in the fast lane
   pissing everyone off

I like my women
like I like my rainbows—
          of scattered light

words are empty vessels

you have poured into yours
   love, lust, and longing

on the page
     they stagnate

half full

Source: purplemonkeysexgod69



I have no skeletons
Hidden in closets
I keep them closer
Safe beneath my tongue
Clenched between molars
My wisdom teeth are used for little else
It seems I never learn
My collection grows
Despite feeble efforts
To balance

Straight and narrow
Were never my style

Source: echoes-of-me



The earth is spinning
and I’m lost in you
so afraid
yet excited
all these fountains
are pouring out
they are made
in you
and I’m finding now
why my world
was pulled apart
I was a desert
in search of water
a sinner
waiting to be baptized
in the cavities
of your heart

Source: supersatellite

Calming the Distractions


like halting the near-transparent 
waves along the vast space of the 
oceans, someday your body will 
be exhausted that you could no 
longer feel the emotion or distraction 
running like train throughout the railings of your life.

half-hidden scrawls of soliloquy on a 
paper-like wall that begins to crumble 
down as though they were half-mast 
words to which your eyes skidded over those
pages without understanding them even 
if they were self-written journals during rainy days.

the massive catastrophe inside 
of you never stops if every scaffold 
of you holds matches of fire until nobody 
would dare to touch and say “stay calm”. 
let go of the rage before it starts to burn you down.

Source: fauxexister



under those tumultuous
bruise-lined pretenses &
heavy-browed looks I
broke away from clotted
crowds and burdening
bass lines to tumble down

cascading stairways, over
railings and the brinks of
steps practically singing in
the sanguine light of a club
that should’ve been shut down
years ago; you watched gaslights

dance at the outlines of old
street corners out front while I
lay eyes on you giving me a soft
shouldered glance in the basement;
we circumvent in animal realisation
of how our future mirrors our past

almost directly— at the curl of my
encompassing touch you edge
along the moan of a coastline and I
derive myself under the full-mouthed
curve of your shoulders, your hair
staggering into darkness as we blur

into a muted sunrise, ears still
ringing. to be certain of one’s
future is heartbreaking, but to
grin at the prospect of knowing
you again turns me inside out—
so I contort, trying not to break

Source: scottiehughes


With a broken arrow wing
they dove into the water
a spontaneous baptism

cracked ribs— another
echo behind your back
as the sternum snaps forwards
and the coliseum claims virtue

idle connection written
into letters sealed with
saliva stained painkillers
as they own yet another
mindset— triggered
triggering Eden to lock
up and

congealing into shouts
though never into
a broken mess.

Source: mickeymichal


Once known for my lisp of a conscience, twice known for
my stutter of a verse, thrice thrown aside by those of trained
tongues for the jinx in my words—  I rattle about in darkness,
beyond God, 

and in this vacuum, I find none to worship but these hands
that speak for the rest of my own.                         Diaspora

of the sole soul, a wanderer trapped in my skin now 
stripped of home; I need not stop to ask for directions though—

all lines come already crowned with the knowledge
of where to go.

Source: esn13


oh yeah the traffic comes
and you make me your woman
with the red and white lights
becoming indistinguishable
the freeway is drunk
all the cars are dead bird feathers
you lean in and kiss me
i could die
the radio static is its own song
my body too
your body too
we pass through the mountain every week
the mountain passes through us
you bring life to my metal dreams
the world never stops ending

Source: blankslate

Brief movements in the mirror


I find more comfort and
          company in empty rooms
          than I ever did
in the bed I shared with you.
Those cold hands pressed
          against my skin,
          drawing out the heat
from my heart,
          those lips that suck
the songs from my soul,
those teeth that bite,
          and tear my flesh apart.

The whisper of ghosts grieving,
the soft breathing
          until we rest
in the corners of sleepy rooms.
Light my face with the
          silver moon;
we are soft vapour,
          we disperse too soon.

Source: giraffevader