[x]

my soul is leakingthe steady drip drip of it in the kitchen
sink has me grinding my teeth

what a waste you said, and in vain
tried to tighten the taps as I laughed—
a waste!—indeed I am.

you told me, pride is a virtue you seem to be lacking
and I said pride leaves the blinds open and you laughed
and left the the blinds open.

Shiny black patent shoes, I watched as you were
lowered into the ground and wondered if that's where life got you,
if that's where life always got you,

then,
what good is pride anyway?

Davaothe equatorial sun
soft-etched on my skin,
there, del sur

islands away

the tan lines of shallow-bathing
in your eyes

there is so much time between

you
and
I

you spoil me, featherbreath
do i dare commit my memory
into dreams?

i laugh upon waking,
i did not realize--
i run when i go to you

sea featherin the breaking of the morning we tore apart our ivory shells
our blood-red hearts are saturated in spume & sea spells
with the ache from the brine gathering around you
your ankles slippery, your mouth
moving liquid through
mine
i had never seen a more beautiful shoreline

gunmetal breaths
on shivering, silver shores

you were ebbing to my flowing
you were coming; i was going

i wrote in the sand that i was yours

on the coast i could feel
salt on my tongue - dew from the
ocean in my lungs
& i was your pearl
latched from the inside to keep everyone out
speaking in rhymes, & cotton tides

this is when you pull my body fro

Cloud in a Bottle 1Cloud in a Bottle 1

How is it your voice is a canyon which cuts
where you did not even speak, opening the rivers
of my lungs so they could cataract, could rage with breath
you breathed? That the rock swells of your ribs, washed
round and floating, met then barred the way with mine
so that my heart, turned to tides, could not slip by,
and beat against the walls, unanswered, ‘til it drowned?

And that I still don’t hate you, even now?

There’s all this nonsense of lips and bubbles, that’s fine;
still refuse drifts in one direction all the same, refusing—
shored up maybe by some reassuring echoes still unsung&mdas

The art of blacking outHow I wish I could say strangers

crept inward, night by night,

stealing my medication and

rearranging my furniture.

But I know it's not true.

There are holes inside

my head. Oxidation.

No one unlocks this door

but me. I am just

forgetting.

The SculptorBefore he would have harvested a tree,
hacked off its limbs,
skinned it,
torn it from the earth,
shaved one by one its cells - its outer core,
until it was what he believed it was,

no more a tree.

Wiser, he walks deep in to the wood,
underneath a forest giant he stops,
looks up in to the leafy branches, sighs,
climbs and sheds his tears upon its boughs.

starspunobserving the romanticism
of hooded cemetery kids,
smoking cigarettes pretending
they are not dead.

you were always so sure
about my uncertainty,
you watched
all my pick up lines
drop things.

we built the heat
of the evening from the solidity
of starlight,

pretended
that two teens at the park
at midnight
is the stuff of teen novels
(cliches dim on
our leaf-gold horizon)

your eyes darted
from the gray expanse
of the churchyard & wandered
in thoughtful
paths.

i wanted to ask you
if i could follow. shove
the words aside &
remember that i came here alone.

i remember our innocence
in the static b e t w e e n
stars

the hungry look...the hungry look,

the wolves
weaving through
and around
the gully of your throat like wraiths,

we can feel you rusting, lost one;

i know that drainpipes and fenders
begin to crackle after winter wet

and that there’s a touch of snow
in all of us,

but no one,
no one could hold you as tightly as you do,
your whole body, bloodless in this arrest,

and if you will not let your fetters show
i will show you
there’s a place for going, and you haven’t gone there yet;

where quantum particles, once in contact, can retain a connection
even when separated

where you
wander up to a stranger
with your shirt inside-out
and say &lsq

apogee"if pluto disappeared
from its orbit,
would the sun notice?" you asked,
and i said that i did not know.

i remember calling
your name, battling with
the roar of the ocean trying
to get my voice to reach your ears.
know this: i went hoarse that day;
from the cold of the spray, from the
shouts torn out of my throat, from the
feeling of having my essense
irremediably ripped from my bones.
and know that that night i tried to soothe
the ache with tea that i could not taste.

"this is no tragedy," i said to myself,
even as i recalled that there was nothing
before you; even as i realize it's
entirely possible that there will be nothi

Moving: A YaduWe keep a home
Of unknown hums
And lonely cats.
The sky cracks but
He lacks a raincoat.

Fueled by smoke and
Words he lands on
A branded street,
Knows the sweet rage
Of meeting too soon and late.

This town belongs
To a song man
And wrongful ghost.
He is most sure
The coast will fade their remnants.

relearning i. stardust scatters with the
direction of my pupils –
maybe secretly i am an
astrology teacher, waiting
for a sign to wink
happily at me.

ii. excuse the rambling
nature of forgotten question
marks, but tell me:
would you like to be the
object of handwritten clichés
would you like to whisper
secrets in my palm
and would you
like to be the possibility

iii. air brushes against my
skin like the torn petals
of a flower still standing.
[ hold your head up high, honey,
and tell tomorrow to wait just
a while,

iv. so you can figure out
the difference between
patience and having all the

Why I Don'tWe are too permanent
for the transience of poetry,
each brief line speeding on toward
the next at breakneck speed.
And I have never been one for writing
epics, you know that.

rootslike drowned men who have lost their
clothes and faces, they lay suspended
facing the sun and grinning without
eyes through the ripples of the water.

those passing by wonder how they got here,
these homeless men without fingers or toes
long spindly stumps twisting into lost roots:

reaching to the east, to the south,
to the homes they have forgotten.

Escape VelocityF = G(m1m2)/r2

Black – true black – is the absence of light. Darkness is defined by what it is not, by the lack of something else. When we say a black hole, we truly mean that; black. Blacker than black. An absence of not only light, but of time, distance, anything.

The night was scary when I was little. I hated the dark, but couldn’t bear to sleep so long as the light was on, any light, burning on the other side of my eyelids. I used to have nightmares about dark things in dark corners, shadowy figures with shadowy fingers trailing along my spine. I always woke up cold and fumbling frantically for the lamp, but the aura o

on watching the night close its eyes on you1. I will not tell you
you are pretty.

How can the halls and angles of such honest humanity
be so pinched between sounds as elementary as these?

2. You need not be two stringent boughs of syllables
nor weave your viney bones abreast these five petty letters,
whirling in the fire of the river
Styx.
Do not attempt to peel yourself layer for layer,
leaving all the disgust behind.
Do not tally your body six &

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More from ~TheStoyTeller

A Cheater Is a HeroMy future isn't bright,
but thats because I chose the dark side,
and a smile cracks across my face
when they,
the out-witted
utter the simple words
"cheater's never prosper."

a cheater is a hero
who got tired of losing
and decided to try harder.

Stars You breathed in the robust idea of being alone
in the milky way with nothing on your back
but the silk cloth of skin
and you exhaled the heroic sovereignty of saving
the poor polluted starlight,
cradling sweet nothings about how those
luminous explosions in the sky were
the iridescent threads and ribbons
that kept our planets gently knit together.

You told me the galaxy was filled
with incandescent jewels
things like topaz encrusted souls
and cosmic layers of adoration made of
bright celestial spirits.
You had whispered your final
words with the quiet sublteness
of a moon just passing by,
saying or rather deciding that
"Stars are

CinderellaGlass sheets were made cold by
our bare skin,
and looking through retrospective lenses
I remember why we cover ourselves in fabric
ation while we sleep:
it is because our dreams hold images,
truths of self evidence and vows of our
very own and genuine monstrosity
but you and I--together, we are beautiful
inside and out
and the outside can see through
our icicle covers,
our sheets that hide no lies,
these mirror of beds that reflect,
reject
and project everything we built and broke down,
everything we made to be our true selves.

Broken glass jutted up with vicious
atrocity,
reminding us that sometimes love hurts
and looks like stalagmite hand

Ariel The Little MermaidSuspended like suspense tangled up in loose ends,
splaying out like untethered limbs
of the massacred masses as they dropped from the skies,
constantly drinking in the slow patterns of cerulean surroundings
stopped short by the humble beauty of sacred coral reefs
and sea shells that
swam a little too far.

she is going to crush them.

Microscopic crunches and cracks under cold skin,
like sand caught between the turning gears of a romantic mind,
heat traps in the atmosphere like comets
left to die in the stratospheric skies.
A carpet of blue flame pressed
hastily into space
a body of carbon dioxide
and hydrogen melded together in
a listless ha

JasmineTattooed impressions replay in her mind's eye
as her oil black hair slithers down
in a shadowy waterfall,
a curtain that seperates the backstage
of her silk face
from the front stage of the world
and she doesn't brush it back
with the charm of ripe lips
because at this point
its too easy for her to smile.

She runs a hand over the hot wick
of a cold candle,
a sweet singe sends chills up the
chord of her spine, vibrating
the rivets and horns of her bones
reminding her of the ignorant cadence
and gluttonous sighs that flew
to the heavens like overinflated balloons
in the middle of the night,
or rather
the middle of the universe.

But now the m

Snow WhiteI'm watching you
through mirrors made of
day old envy
and I can't help but see you
as if you were crafted from a movie
in all your foreign ways, and alien affairs
flaring flares and trailors
of what taylors make out of
you for a living:
dapper dresses
and blunt blouses
that fit you just right
and I have a grave estimation
that you are just my type:
the moonlight pale skin
and eyelashes that poke out
like the legs of a black widow
tell the tale of wicked windows
to death
ripe apples of flesh
tree's of knowledge bareless
just for you and me
I sing

Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who is the most insecure of them all?
Does she eat red daimonds
becaus

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Osteoperosis

by ~TheStoyTeller, Feb 5, 2013, 7:36:27 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Words and bones
are sticks and stones
and they will surely kill me

Osteoperosisby ~TheStoyTeller

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2013 ~TheStoyTeller

day 3. 97 more to go.

EDIT: Wow, I really did not expect to get a DD from this, but I will take it! Its really awesome how supportive everyone as the art community is so thanks so ,much everyone from the bottom of my heart. Love you guys!

Daily Deviation

Given 2013-03-29

Osteoperosis by ~TheStoyTeller ( Suggested by `lintu47 and Featured by ^NicSwaner )

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~BasileVigny Mar 31, 2013 New member Hobbyist Photographer

Very beautiful

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~TheStoyTeller Mar 31, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

thank you.

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~Lexi247 Mar 29, 2013

It has a great flow to it! Simple yet effective!

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~TheStoyTeller Mar 30, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you very much!

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~inspiroid Mar 29, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Love it!

Congrats on the DD!

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~TheStoyTeller Mar 30, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you so much!

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~inspiroid Mar 30, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

You're welcome!

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*CMHirst Mar 29, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

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~TheStoyTeller Mar 30, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

cool link!

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Mood: Speechless

~malicealice00 Mar 29, 2013

cool

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