[x]

BeliefBelief

She tells him the child is not his.
The old women mutter and cluck
as they slap wet cloth against river stones.
He wraps his arms around his chest as though he fears
he will also sprout with child. "A dove,"
he quietly asks? She points to a blood spot
on her cheek. "He pecked me here." It still hurts
when she touches it. It always hurts.
He loves the child, the cuckold's hatchling. He loves his lying wife.
But he knows she lies. When the old men stumble
into the stable, beards matted, coarse as grain,
he simply mutters, "Drunks," bad wine, betrayal.
One afternoon as he saws cedar planks, sawdust thick as pollen,
an angel catches his

AffannatoIf my ribs were weighted keys,
I'd play you an ocean song that tips you
right off the edge of the earth,
and clinging to my last phrase, you'd say
'what a tragedy, what a helpless dreamer,
such a beautiful pair of lungs gone to the dust'.

And night would hold us in that distant desperation,
playing our heartstrings so we couldn't keep up,
no, not with that soulful, off-tempo portrait
of who we could have let each other become.

I'll crawl back to bed on my bare boned knees
and when I wake to the black holes you've burned
into the sheets you and I were 'us' on,
I'll write you a desert song
about how I jumped off the edge of the earth
and yo

Totems and Godhoodi. As a child, confronting giants.

I take the pine tree as my totem,
learn to love the nakedness of its nether-regions
and its northerly fibers stretched and waiting
for the weft to its warp.

Girlhood is still a part of me as the
learning what I am. In the end,
I haven't climbed a tree in a long time;
I am small, and scared, and ringed round with walls,
and I beg the moon to teach me
to use my pine trees as a ladder.

ii. In the way only young love can.

You, sir—
you are pine chips, and I carry you
like a fetish in my mind.

You are the first vampiric sweetness
to suck the breath from my body:
unknowing, the feeling of ye

wrists that roarmama says
pull down your sleeves
they'll see, they'll see
but no-one's even looking

i say mama
tigers are proud and strong
and tigers show their stripes
so today i'm a tiger

and who says
i can't be a tiger
when razors made me fierce
and secrets kept me lonely

who says
i can't tiger-roar
when everything unsaid
ripped my throat raw

i made my stripes
with tiger-claws and tiger-teeth
so damned if i'm not a tiger
and damned if i won't roar

mama, i'm a tiger
mama, hear me roar

14isabelline fractures
and lilliputian speckles
lonely caramel dew
melancholic and moribund
crimson dwarf stars
in nets of spun gold
a kingfisher beating
breaking through ribs
swallowing grey tuesdays
and drowned wednesdays
and hail and snow gale

rate of firethe sight
of the black and white
parked in the loading zone

gives me a moment of panic.

The average human
can cover 12 feet per second

and it's at least
300 to your classroom.

MarigoldsI.

She braved the marigold patch
once a week
a decision all claimed was wise

You're lost
this will set things straight
he will be your guide

II.

There was a narrow path
less marigolds grew there
the apartment awaited
at the end of the path
its owner grew to be a friend

Over lemonade
they discussed possibilities
new beginnings
how lovely
how wonderful
it is to trust each other
as friends (except deeper)
as equals (except closer)
against the backdrop
of such a chaotic world

III.

Some weeks later
blinded by the harsh sun
she dared not look down
a hand skimmed her thigh

On her way home
the marigolds burned h

IcarusHand me those keys
I don't think it's right you drive

She shot me a glare
jumped in the drivers seat and shot off
faster than I could mouth -
Be Safe.

It was thirty minutes later when we found her
body bent
hanging out of the windscreen
blood clawed down her dress
with a lump of a belly hanging out,

and John turned to me and said
'I think she's with child'
and I wanted to laugh and tell him 'No
it's just an addiction to Oreos'
but when it comes to comedy
you've got to pick your moments

and as we heard the baby screaming
in the muted palms of her dying breath
I knew that no audience
would even summon a sympathy laugh for me
as my hope of

My Paper Mache PersonLiving with you it felt like I could shatter at any moment. Even though I was the one who chose to stay I couldn't stand to watch you break over and over again. You were like the paper Mache people I made as a kid, too heavy to support your own weight. The funny thing is I never did learn my lesson and I would try again and again unable to make them perfect just like I could never fix you. Maybe its because we're both broken inside the same way mom was when brother never took his first breaths. It probably would have been better if we had never met. But, I wouldn't want to forget. Me and you we both filled our bodies with poison until we coul

Extinct language.I fill myself with dead tongues,
rising through my gut and singing
streaming in a dancing line from my mouth.

Perhaps fictional tongues,
words wrapped in a world to never
exist.
Kings and elves
fantasy of the highest order.

Speak.
The words of long dead men
imagined men
A history vibrating through
the patterns of my mouth
a slow dance of my butchered inflection.

To know my words echo
the sentiments
of ages now come to pass.

choose full or emptythis is new.

this is new in the way of shocked reflections and wailing newborns, in the way of new lovers and old flames, burning bright, burning fierce, burning out. coals in the hearth and ashes on my tongue, tastes and flavors and prayers and curses, all burnt out. their lives are gone, given up for cause after cause, and no one mourns the match that strikes a bonfire. no one wonders what happens when a pouf of sulfur and oxygen and friction combine. no one asks whether the match was ready, whether it should be saved or just do its duty. i wonder if emerson's books burned like this, if they sent smoke-prayers down to heaven or up to h

The Normal GuysAs he killed the engine, Fred let his heavy head fall to the dash. What else would a rich man do but keep his sports car in pristine condition? He'd seen all the rich guys drive around in their red Lamborghinis, arms around the shoulders of their cute blonde trophy wives. Many smoked Cuban cigars and did at least fifteen over the speed limit.
It had been a week since the last time he'd gotten his car cleaned. Going through a car wash still felt so ordinary, but how was he supposed to know where all the football stars and successful computer nerds went to get the job done? Those privileged bastards looked so smug with their greased hair and perfectly waxed hoods.
The attendant tapped on the window. "Sir? Do you need directions?"
Fred rolled the window down and leaned his head out the window. "No. I'm exactly where I meant to be."
"Are you sure?" the boy asked, raising both eyebrows.
Fred nodded. He knew the way to G

confessionalthey say sad girls change their hair color
and forgive their monsters.

i change my morals
and become one.

SometimesDigital stars make neon scars in the night,
and we are imagining the feeling of sometimes being alive,
and sometimes being in love.

Magazine dreams rip at the seams in the light,
and we are imagining the feeling of sometimes being in love,
and sometimes being alive

Bright coloured cars start highway wars in plain sight,
and we are imagining the feeling of sometimes being alive,
and sometimes being in love.

Tasting the sounds as the ocean pounds against moonlight,
and we are imagining the feeling of sometimes being in love,
and sometimes being alive.

Translation (Traduccion)Her hips swayed, bailando,
and I held her en mis brazos.
We danced by moonlight, admirando las estrellas,
and the rest of the world faded a la noche.

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More from ~TaiHizake

hurting doesn't end, becauseit’s permanent inside her mind

i asked her how she broke her ribs  
and why she had a little too much makeup on her left eye  
she told me  
she fell.

i asked her why she stayed 
and she said  
“because i love him”

but staying isn’t as bad as loving  
and i told her that her self hatred was misdirected 
mistaken 
misused as justification 
it should be her self hating her staying

but it’s permanent inside her mind  
that she’s sub-par,
second class citizen
and she won’t find another, better place to be
and it’s permanent to me

how

isn't it lovelyisn't it lovely?
my words can stop a bullet
and stop my chest, too

it was the drugshappiness comes in the form of chemicals
that made parents want to scream
i wanted to scream too
is my dream my life and my life my dream?

if so,
there is
a
god

subtextif you're hearing voices
i guarantee they're not telling you
how bright the sun's sparkling and how
if you stare at it for long enough
your eyes can sparkle too, like you're in love

if you're hearing voices
i promise they're not telling you
how pretty the night is
and how if you stay out too late
you'll start dying from the tips inward

but what if i'm lying down?sadness doesn't flow down from my tearducts
from my brain to my tongue to my heart
from my heart to the pit of my stomach and
from the sinking feeling in my abdomen to the scars on my legs
no--
it flows up
from my toes to my knocking knees
from my crossed arms to quivering lip
and my brain's the last to know

and isn't it ironici’m still alive
i’m breathing and my ribs crack with the weight of every breath
i’ve got black eyes—both of them—
and they become darker with every blink
my eyelids are as heavy as the bags underneath them
filled with coal and sand and tears
but i’m still alive because
it’s unfair to make you bear
the burden of losing a lover
and your best friend
like i did
when the beating of my heart
became beating of my body
and the bruises went down to the bone
(the tragic part
is that you could never love someone so damaged)

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i'm in love with a girl with six months to live

by ~TaiHizake, Feb 5, 2013, 5:12:20 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

i'm in love with a girl with six months to live
she did not tell me so
i knew from the hair i found in the bath
i knew from the emptiness when i held her

i knew from the wardrobe two sizes too big
i saw it in her face
she looked so thin, so exhausted
she looked so different

i'm in love with a girl with two months to live
i live in the hospital
my days pass with hand-holding, saying
"it's going to be okay" (to me)
it's going to be a rough night again

i'm in love with a girl with one month to live
i can hardly bear to see her
but she's still
as beautiful as she always was

i'm in love with a girl with six months to liveby ~TaiHizake

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

semi-true story.

(two poems of the day today, since I didn't have one yesterday)

=eluvinari Jun 3, 2013 New member Student Writer

this is heart breaking

~TaiHizake Jun 3, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

I suppose that's because that's how I felt at the time, a little broken hearted.

~TheChesherCat May 22, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Wow, this is powerful. Reminds me a bit of The Fault in Our Stars. Have you read it?

~TaiHizake May 23, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Yes, but I don't like John Green as a writer much. Sorry! Thank you, though!

~TheChesherCat May 23, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Interesting, I know a lot of people in love with him! I liked the stories but you're right; I didn't find the writing itself that skilled.

~valkvick May 22, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Congratulations on the well-deserved DLD. This is so simple. You didn't pad the truth with anything particularly fancy.

"it's going to be okay" (to me) is my favorite line here.