[x]

Does that make me Different?I wear make up. Does that make me fake?
I cry. Does that make me emo?
I have male friends. Does that make me slutty?
I smile a lot. Does that make me weird?
I laugh loud. Does that make me preppy?
I have anxiety. Does that make me a freak?
I have Bipolar Disorder. Does that make me abnormal?
I respect people. I change for me, and only me. I have a past, but I know I have a future.
Does that make me different?
Maybe.
But at least it makes me
Me.

FrostbiteNumbness
I can’t feel my toes and at first I think
It’s just my toes.
I can cover them up.
I can warm them.

It spreads, like fire,
Like ice.
I glance away for a second, it seems, and my feet are cold
Pat –pat
That’s funny, I didn’t feel that
Maybe I’ll cover them up too
I’ll warm them up.

I’ll take a nap
Maybe a short rest will make it all better, warm them
Up…
What’s that? How long has it been?
My legs… are you still mine..
Why has my breath left me, short?
Has everything but deserted me?

What about you, are you still here?
Are you still with me?
Hello?
And before I can say goodbye, I think my thoughts are leaving me too –

You'll Never Understand...You'll never understand...
But I'm glad you don't.
Because that would mean
You'd have to go through my pain.
And I'd never wish that
For you.

Dear fucked society,Dear fucked up society,
Why do you take our rights?
Our human rights?
To who we love?
To who we are.. To our image?
Tell me.

You force images down our throat;
Images of airbrushed, false looking
people. You want people to look
more skinny and cause anorexia,
More along the hidden line that
you dig under the ground like
a dead forgotten body yet always there

You show us that its not right to be gay,
lesbian, bi-sexual or transgendered..
And then wonder why the suicide rate is
so fucking high. You cause the nightmares
and terrors of our family not accepting us
our

Sleeping Beautyshe’s in love with a character who
never existed but in the labyrinth of her head:
a patchwork composition of beautiful, lengthy words
she’d heard in her catatonic state; coma living
day in and day out, reliant on the salvation
of a man made of foreign wishing
and imperfection and necessity – an ignorance
of the less than ideal perception of self she’d
come to fear, absention stained romantic to the point
where daydreams were a standard for survival

(real living is for the purposeful of heart,
he loves her in her sleep)

I don't fight fair...Cut, bruised, scraped, forgotten. These things I have all been at least once in my life. But it
hasn't made me stronger, just more determined in my fight to live another day.
I know the ways of my attackers, studied their movements, learned their tricks and gleamed
their true motives. I have seen their weaknesses, their faults, theirs flaws and I have kept
them close to me, ready for use when the next time we meet.
They are cautious of me, they have weary from my adaptive ways, knowing that I can fall only
so many times. They are scared for I have the key to their defeat; not by sane ways, but by
the ways they fear to tread.
One look, one stare, one gesture and they will run in fear for the truth is upon them: "I won't
live restrained anymore."
"I have seen your errors an played on them like strings on a violin. Moved you to place were I
make the rules. Put you on display for all to see what you have done, and what will be done."

You ha

UneditedWe cry.
We scream.
We fight for our dream.

We scream.
We cry.
We're just waiting to die.

The same emotions
with a different drive.
Sometimes dead, sometimes alive.

The same in one way,
different in another
brother and sister, sister and brother.

So close in feeling,
so different in the end.
Falling apart, or finally on the mend?

Which am I?
Will I ever know?
Fighting to stay or ready to go?

Maybe I'm both,
in some impossible way.
Emotions oddly mixed everyday.

Wouldn't surprise.
I'm such a freak.
Excuse me, I laugh, I should call it "unique"

Happily AloneHonesty,
She does not have,
Personalities,
She has many of them.

A million shields,
a million personalities,
She's always changing,
to fit every person around her.

If one were to ask why,
she would answer with,
I will never reveal my weaknesses,
because she's evil.

She hates everyone,
stupider than her is barely tolerable,
smarter than her is too scary,
She hates it all.

She leaves the world behind,
To one she has dreamt of,
No color,
nobody else.

Then,
she will smile,
why,
because she is truly happy alone.

She is not evil,
She does not hate you,
She is not dishonest,
She simply wants to be alone.

lifelinesI fear the sound of sparrows
and the density of leaves
against dew-muffled blades
of grass,

and I'm drowning
in the sky.

My skin has learned how
to peel itself off
without causing a commotion
in my marrows or
even show the slightest hint
of pain,
and my heart has learned how
to hush the stars in their wake
and keep it all a secret.

There's a sea in my mouth
and I can't swim.

There are lifelines
cast like these and it will
all end with the same tragedy.

the carbon footprint of an arsonistyour crystal promise
rings drip off your glacial
fingers into global

nothings. the geodesic
dome you used to live in
is a hell you keep

clean-shaven and concentric,
spiraling away from you,
wrapping your unborn

children up in paper goblets.
for minimum wage, any geryon
would cling to the terza rima

inkblots on your
collarbones, his spongy molars
diving into your right

angles, his familiar laughs
killing your skin with
shivering cuddles and you

shudder, being self-diagnosed
at center of the universe,
your hair a nest of radio

waves, the one cosmic
principle drumming on the ancient
heart of mystery.

but amateur porn always
made you cry

of seafoam thronesFrom Atlas’ hands she wept to me,
atop Africas and South Atlantics;

this is one situation unaffected by
ember eyes and windy lashes
(it has no anatomy).

You are sparrows stranded
in tiny crevices and cliffside love,
though you rebuke flight
in the fear of chipping feathers.

So what do you do?

You reach for my soul,
coveting flight with shaking
dainty arms…

and perhaps I’ll let you:
With flytrap lips and
glass shaped hips…
you are unfit for anything but
sight.

(But beauty isn’t everything)

The WaitingBones hang from trees
Hollow windchimes rattling
In the sullen breeze

Dark clouds make noonday dusk
Rusted buttons on threadbare coats
Sorrow drips like rain

(From the fingertips of this dead-rose day)

Hoofprints kill the grass
Where the dark horse steps
The rider unsmiling

The tired and ill amble about
Cattle awaiting the shoulder tap
To sleep, but not to dream

(To become whatever the second birth dictates)

We are the King and Queen of Broken DreamsStanding still in a mine field, staring at all we have left.
We were so young, we didn’t stop to think.
Now we’re in a car crash, teetering on the brink.
If you were to leave me now, I don’t know what I’d do.

It was a whirl wind romance,
A light when all was black, a spark of something when all was bleak.
You swept me off my feet and made me feel brand new.
I thought we could live forever and I’m certain you did to.

We built a house without foundations
And now we’re falling down,
Everything’s crumbling around us, time slipping through out fingertips.
People used to walk past us but they were to drunk to see,
That our lives are coming apart around us, there is no light as far as we can see.

There was no fire to start with,
Just two broken things, the world had left behind.
The casualties of other people’s dreams of power, money and control,
Spat out onto the curb to rot away and die.
We never stood a chance or so

Ashes on the SandWe put you in
a crystal box
small enough for me
to hold in my
hands
(and that thought gives me
chill bumps)
The tide was high
where we took you
and I remember thinking
how pointless it was
(you were just going to wash
up on the shore)
Everyone was quiet
and some people cried
and as you were tossed
out to sea like so
many grains of sand
I thought how much
I missed you
(Now I think how much
I hate you
for leaving)

A Charmed LifeDoll-faced men and sinkholes, ancient tombstones
Leaves piled ankle-deep, falling down
Old wells, old graves, old friends lost
Pirate adventures in Neverland
Don't go into that barn

Ponchoboy and Rangergirl rise from the ashes
From the cold river, from afar
Remember before they were born, how they
Held hands and jumped into the world
Don't go into that school

Ladybugs, pennies, notes from the dead sun eclipse
Scrape the inside of your skull for clues
All the old dreams are still there, petrified
You are a rock of ages gibbering
Don't go into that factory

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Syncing HeartbeatsI sit in your T-shirt,
uncertain.

The sunlight streams gently in like
a stream of amber;
disarming me.

I hold my breath,
hesitant,
afraid;
there are a million things you could
say within this moment.

I want to run:
here I am vulnerable under your studying eyes.
After last night the insecurities should be washed away,
but have only seemed to increase...
to the point my heart is barely able to hold them.

I brace myself for rejection,
for rejection is all I've ever known.

Instead, you wrap me safely in your arms,
and my worries are silenced with the syncing of our heartbeats.
Ba-thump, Ba-thump.

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Submitted: January 28
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with the only apathy I could feign.

by ~Nullibicity, Jan 28, 2013, 8:03:05 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

You and I:

makeshift souls of birdsong,
because we’d only word-etched ribs
and hearts incompatible with stillness.

We’d breathe trust in parallel irises,
just to see hope fall before ruin;
darkness was learned better swords than opponents,
and they stabbed as swift as sure.

I and You:

regretting in weeping,
for love never learned to be held—
for souls always seemed to be cracked
by each stretching tongue of longing.

Perhaps love is lost before it is found,
and perhaps love stays lost to hearts
gifted without the affinity for light;

we were matches made in heaven,
of hell’s most cruelest design…

You and I, and I and you,
forever longing to be whole.

with the only apathy I could feign.by ~Nullibicity

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

I don't really know what to say about this one. Perhaps everything has been said. (or perhaps it's just my mad ramblings from the flu.)
Please let me know of any weak spots... it was more a contemplation piece, so I did not look for them.

Critique and feedback are most appreciated, as always!

_{_{(p.s. Sorry for not replying and for only writing poetry... I've the stomach flu. It is horrible, but I'm on the third day; since this is so, I believe it is feeling better. I'm skipping again tomorrow, but then it is back to school for me ... and I now feel for any of you who've fell ill with this blasted flu.)}}

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*bloodawni Feb 17, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous.

~Nullibicity Apr 7, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you so very much!
I'm happy you liked it!

~Choque-Plumbeo Jan 29, 2013

i liked it, reminded me of a summer love that ended in winter, or in the words of the poem a summer longing, and yeah love was lost before it was found, and stayed lost to hearts. I don't know what you're doing wrong but you're doing something right, that i am sure

~Nullibicity Apr 7, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Your comment was so beautiful! Thank you so very, very much. I always seem to reply late to you, too, and for that I deeply apologize: I took a break which lasted longer than expected.
However, this is such a lovely comment, and it is much appreciated. Thank you, again; I am deeply grateful!

~RenosGirl77 Jan 29, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Ugh God, poor you suffering with the flu!!

I had it a month ago and couldn't get out of bed it was so horrible. Really hope you feel better soon!!

About the poem: I really loved this one - it was slightly more vague than some of your others, but I think that just makes it all the more powerful - the meaning hits you later that way, and I can see myself going back to re-read this one many times because of that.

Fantastic job, once again!!

~Nullibicity Jan 29, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

It seems to be doing better today. I'm glad: I have a fear of throwing up (just because a part of me wants things internal to stay that way.) The fever is gone, at least! I definitely have more energy, and I can finally stand without falling over

. Thanks for your concern! I am terribly sorry, though, to hear you had it, too. Especially that it was so bad you were bed-ridden! How horrible! I cannot imagine how bad that must have been: I've been able to at least walk.

I'm really glad this poem was to your liking. Despite its imperfections, I have such a soft spot for it: It's about someone very important to me... and the ways in which we are similar. I have to say we probably learned it from each other ha (: we always seem to pick our bad habits up from someone.
Thanks for the feedback: you always make me feel like a bar of gold! (and it is much appreciated~ : P)

~RenosGirl77 Jan 30, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Really glad to hear you're feeling better!!

That makes a lot of sense - I've only ever thrown up once in my life, which is quiet weird, but it was still absolutely horrible!! -_- I'd just eaten my favourite thing for dinner, too, so I wasn't a happy bunny!! Anyway, that'd besides the point - fortunately I got over this one comparatively quickly!! Thank you for your concern.

You are most welcome, once again. I think the love you have for this person really came through in this piece - you have a great knack for conveying a huge amount of deep and passionate emotion very neatly, and in very few words!

Your poetry is proving the high point of my day at present, so thank you very much for that!!

~unde2aker Jan 28, 2013

the ideas nice...but im having some difficulty with your construction of the poem

~Nullibicity Jan 28, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you for the feedback. However, would you mind elaborating a bit? I've heard many people talk of construction in different terms. Do you mean the way I constructed the content or the way I constructed the spacing/paragraphing? and if I could ask one more question: how does it pose difficulty?
I'm just looking for understanding so I may make appropriate changes, should I decide to.

~unde2aker Jan 28, 2013

the content itself. the word choice and order is jarring and the diction is basic.

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with the only apathy I could feign.

with the only apathy I could feign.by ~Nullibicity

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