punctuating confessions

late night talking, but i can't tell
if i'm talking to myself
or to somebody else
and everything i say is either real
or just rhyming with reality
and to be honest
i don't know the difference anymore
i'll tell you, in words
overflowing with the truth
spilling out through the cracks of uncertainty
falling to the floor as lies
because
this is how it feels
and it feels like the only truth i've ever told
the rest is false, but at least i can tell you
that before the words left my mouth
they were flesh and ink and blood and water
alive and kicking, swimming
stabbing little things
but there's something about the night air
or the sunshine
or the real life, i don't know
whatever i'm missing, it affects them
like putting them in brackets
(emotions become afterthoughts)
like adding quotations
"this was said by someone else"
like ending the sentence
there are no more true words.

"i" was gone today

at every moment
there came a pause beneath the glass
as the cold passed through us
and the wheels rolled on
and the oxygen around us moved slowly
and we were safe

or at least that's how the day felt
warm and soft
a comfort to my scrambled, savage soul
as deep down below me
the beast
(the road)
was defeated

guess the world just seems to me
a place that needs to be defeated
every so often

guess the same could refer to me
now, that's a thought

a challenge!

rosa! marissa!

i challenge you to writing a lipogram. meaning you have to write a poem without using a certain letter. not once. time to break out the thesaurus. bonus points if it's still recognizable as your poetic style, though poetic style is alway shifting and up to debate.

alternatively you can write a reverse-lipogram, in which every word must contain a certain letter.

my lipogram is below. i refrained from using e and it was awesome and terrible cause you can't use half of the good words or write in past tense. it's quite fun though. let me know if you spot an e, i might have missed one.

and i was thinking if we have fun with this, we could challenge ourselves to do things like this more often, where we constrain ourselves to a particular poetic form or device to see what happens.

shvaugn

rhapsody

and within following

a rhythm of striking gold,

I am picking all divisions

of my body bright,

blank skin along 

a canvas, unshorn hair

matting against my skull,

spots of blood

and surviving murmurs

of your kiss upon my collar,

staining black, blooming

wild forms of joy

and gratification as I watch

my shadow unfurl

in your mirror,

with a grin and a laugh

as I lift up my arm to touch,

nails raw, and inch forward,

slowly,

my lips soft against glass

in rhapsody.

masquerade

the snow today
felt like a blanket
and my scarf was a masquerade mask
as i twirled through the day
on broken costume stilettos
with the stain of stupid words
colouring my lips

today, i finally came up with
something to say
that makes sense to me
now, all i need
is some other masked dancer
to say it to

can life just be a masquerade?
can we just judge each other
by tone of voice
and tilt of head
and honest things said
and simple choice
and just
that gut feeling you get?

today, i finally came up with
a request
and i've got the tape paused in my head
just waiting
for something to click
for someone to reach out and press play

please don't call me by my face
call me by my name

apologize

at least the man
who tried to kill me
was polite
about it.

his hand
rests gently
on the back of my neck,
nails rough and worn
as he traces his way
down the length of my spine,
turning each knob
with a definite crack
until he reaches the curves
of my hips
and digs in.
sorry. i'm sorry. i'm sorry.
i'm sorry. 
my name, something other
than a curse, a rope tied tightly
around us both, just hovering
between the space of his lips
as one of us, i'm not sure who,
starts to cry. 
we are left with
his hand on my heart,
knife on my gullet,
lips pressed softly to my cheek
in prayer
as he apologizes once more
and the moment
where everything pauses
and i brace myself
for the impact.

cannot

it is strange

and suddenly i cannot
only with the empty beat
of my heart along
the side of my rib
the hollow beneath the weight
of my stomach
built along the lines
that everything is now different
from yesterday

even when you kiss me
run your fingers through my hair
build the tension
along the base of my spine
and out across my abdomen
till you cleave my body in two
at the end of this moment

i am still whole though
still beating
breathing moving along
between the burst of my cells
and the boil of the blood
despite the possibilities
and the consequences

because you never realize
what it means to you
until you suddenly can't