[x]

Waiting for a coach
and four
that never came,
she realized
a ball gown
won't bloom
out of sackloth;
glass slippers
are not dependable
and mice
are best left
to their own devices.
Midnight was never a friend,
and under that suit
he is the same as any other
man.

IcarusSun girl,

the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.

Do not let anyone
clip your wings;

you were made for the skies.

Red DressDon’t put on your red dress
for he doesn’t know the meaning
he doesn’t want the commitment
he doesn’t care for the color.

The red dress you love to wear
that’s stained from wine and beer
but still carries so much meaning
for who could find a second red dress

Don’t go out on your red dress
for the man who wants nothing more
to screw around and doesn’t understand
the meaning behind a simple red dress.

A red dress for when you dance.
A red dress for when you cry.
A red dress for when you need it.
A red dress for when you care too much.

Don’t put on your red dress for him darling
he doesn&rsqu

Definition of a Writerwrit•er

noun /rītər/

A writer is a person
Who sees the world differently
From a high perspective of understanding
To an easily balanced imagery

They stand at the edge of the cliff
And run that extra mile
To gain what a normal person cannot see
And to obtain the hope that they wish to cherish

A writer is a person
Who buries their ego and places boulders upon it
They learn the rules, follow the rules, and will break the rules
And make writing their own

They lay upon the dusty old ground of a graveyard
And do an annual ritual to free the inspiration that has been pinned down
They want to show their abnormality to everyone

i got flowers oncei am lonely.
i received flowers once
and i placed them
in a vase til
the petals all browned
desiccated
and turned to dust
on the glass of my bureau.

i have never gotten flowers since.

i spend my days
with a boy
a man
whom i love far beyond reason
and he holds me in his arms
and holds me together.

i bite my nails
and pull my hair
over the moment when he
inevitably
feels the disenchantment
fall over his body,
all clean lines
and smooth shapes,
and realises that leaving
the worst thing
would be
the best thing.

i am lonely
and even with a hand to hold,
and even with a cloak of security
bunching around my shoulders
and hiding my thighs,
i feel

moonshines in georgiaman on the moon:

giddy with lumps of north georgia seas
greased on the crease of my lips
gravity drips from couch-cavities
when tides belch from below --

burst on the water's edge,
earth's bourbon sailors retch in moonshined ripples
trickled blue murder on their crinkled crimes;
raking water wrinkles like a wayward drunk
stuck on sunken bootleggin' dreams.

it's been a long, long time
since I've drowned your hemisphere
for fishing like a moonraker,
swishing my bait-lines like tobacco's
squished in your shallow gums
before you dare to down my air
breathing in this sincere georgia night.

insomnia to keep you closefalling asleep with the windows
open, with morning curling
around you like a drop of blue
ink in a glass of water,
turquoise and unwritten;

remembering when early dawn
was a secret you kept
in a soft, aortic pocket—

your dead lighter spinning
to the floor of Lake Ontario,
a halo of its bygone, synergetic flame.

Blame The ParentsI won't be able to keep a relationship in the future because I'm scared
I'm scared it'll turn out like theirs

I'm a pacifist because I hate watching it
I hate watching them fight

I have PTSD because of their fights
Their fights almost broke up this family

I self harm because they are pushing me over the edge
I was already close to jumping, but they gave me an extra push

I'm always in my room because that's how I run away
I guess that's called "Like father, like daughter"

I only eat one meal a day because he constantly puts me down
Even though he's joking, I can tell he means every bit of what he says

I can't trust anyone because they do

Asperger's SyndromeAsperger’s Syndrome

This is what makes me different.
It is what makes me both distant and compassionate.
It is what makes me both tired and creative.
It is what makes me both sassy and awkward.
It is what makes me both fairly normal and completely insane at the same time.

This is what makes me amazing.
It is what gives me my talents and achievements.
It is what gives me my intelligence and ideas.
It is what gives me my humor and individuality.
It is what gives me my passion and dedication.

This is what makes me flawed.
It is what makes me confused and anxious.
It is what makes me exhausted and frustrated.
It is what makes me uncertai

field notesi read some poetry
just for the sound--for the words lilting up and down
and the thick, honeysepia
polaroids unmisting in my head.
those are the poems i never understand
and the only conclusion i can draw is:
there is apparently
some supernova poetic awakening that comes
with the loss of virginity
and basically i need to get laid.

MorningA black cat sleeps in a ray of sun
My coffee is lousy
Another cardboard morning
The day isn't a blank canvas
Waiting to be painted
Its already scrawled with
Yesterday's mad crayon drawings

Smoke drifts up and out of the window
I drink the coffee

Missing piecesMissing pieces

There are wounds
that never heal; silences
so loud they thunder - I stopped
breathing years ago, that night
the ice took my chest. Since then
I walk in pieces, howling
around my heart.

-SophieCT, 2012, 2013

blood-red wine and skeleton jazz i.
the day you left,
your cobweb dress clung to you in ways
that i would dream about for years,
in hot, fevered nights
when the moon thought it might burst
in the sky,
and even the wind wailed your name.

ii.
i remember how you called make-up war paint,
and you drew it across your face like a message
i could never decipher;
i remember how i got goosebumps when i heard
your heels clicking across the floor at 3am
when you finally got home and slipped into bed;
i remember longing for you with every fiber of my being,
feeling separate from you even when our clothes lay on the floor
and your fingernails dug into my shoulders
and your toes curled

L.E.S.B.I.A.N.Living on the
Edge of life
Saving myself
Being who
I truly am
As it is all i can be
Never forget that

Anatomic and foreign inside of youAt times, I thought that roadmap
in your chest was the reason why I gathered
dust at night.

But one day,
on the coldest afternoon,
I dwelled in your body
through your eyelids

and travelled through these streets
long enough to know that your unexplained hunger
wasn't going to cease-
I was barefoot in the days
where the sun scorched its rage
on every drop of sweat hiding in my nape
that they gave up and ran away,

like little gypsies looking for an oasis
to build their tents in,
standing on bare sand dunes-
relieved that the prejudice of their pagan artistry
was replaced with acres
and acres of dry, barren landscape.

This was how I striv

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 400 bytes more ▶

More from ~tigereverskin

the cruel menperhaps in bedrooms stinking of sweat, dead ideas,
perhaps no one is awake yet, no one is suffocating under pillows,
never happened, never startled the bugs out of crevices,
certainly someone has pictured this, mounted this on walls,
flowed from room to room like water in deep ditches.

they have been practicing here, standing under ceiling fans
and marking time by how many cuts they have in their arms,
perhaps they are moving now, moving from one sad vision to another,
picking up tricks, business, and pieces of how to fit together,
perhaps they are dead men, stinking of dysfunction, stitched into quilts like bits of americana.

untied tastesmelt away the man’s man,
the busy bee and busier beaver.
keep up with me in tall buildings, today’s dead professional.
and my, how you warble when you talk,
imagining the whole world jumping to conclusions,
readying the rockets, shaking out of your aura, remarkably in one piece.
your silence is captured in glass tubes with plastic caps,
fastened with rubber bands to wire racks,
explained away on blackboards in smeared yellow chalk.
and woe, just like those other foes,
multiplies in times of flight, precipitates the downgrade of life,
inveighs your remaining hope and lays waste the rainbow.
burn away the sold soul,
the l

flickerflicker hither, winter’s ending,
making us a memory, a mockery of bending.
how are you now
gassed and passed out,
slowly climbing ladders that point down?
flicker, shiver, hint at running.
make of me the king of dreams, another lover coming.
how was i then
near the deep end,
knowing all the while i could not swim?

foolish intriguesquick to the ground with
leaves in your mouth, a gun in your hand
and i am dead beside you, blood in my teeth,
fingers still grasping your ankles,
i am dead beside you on the soggy ground,
a gun under your chin and
you are dead beside me, dead beside me and
we are in love.

jeu d'espriti have lengthened the reign of the sadness king.
i have unmade poetry, distanced
myself from friends.
(this pill is colored blue to remind
me of you.) your skin is salty. your face is dirty.
fearful symmetry. throw some meat to blake with his scowl and
turn south.
little mouths, tiny voices
unload a litany of secrets, you don’t need to know this,
you don’t need to figure this out. have choices. relate
to the gathering grey, the play of the mind and everybody else’s good times
for your sake and mine.
i have run ragged the only heart i own, handed hell
too many pieces of my soul. i remain the sadness king,
unsavory,

View Gallery

Featured in Groups:

Not currently featured in any groups.

Details

Submitted: January 24, 2010
File Size: 400 bytes

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 14
Favourites: 7 [who?]
Views: 464 (0 today)
Downloads: 13 (0 today)

[x]

just like we rehearsed

by ~tigereverskin, Jan 24, 2010, 2:11:05 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

she sprawls relaxed claws,
i forget courtesy and curse at it all.
her head and mine can find solace against softer walls.

bitter this talk and call if off,
call it lost to the mist and dust and frost.
her heart and mine will chalk the floors and stay star-crossed.

just like we rehearsedby ~tigereverskin

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2010-2013 ~tigereverskin

just like we rehearsed. written january 24, 2010.

_{an ending, if endings can be had.}

!ilikewhatyousay Jun 26, 2010

i really like this.

i also like that it's short. it kind of adds to it, in my perspective.

Reply

~tigereverskin Jun 27, 2010

_{thank you! short is what i seem to do best. my focus has always been questionable, so the longer i go, the more i veer.}

Reply

`YouInventedMe Mar 6, 2010 Writer

quite an ending!

Reply

~tigereverskin Mar 8, 2010

_{thank you, kind sir.}

Reply

*LAlight Jan 24, 2010 Hobbyist Photographer

Wow, so much in so few words. You have a wonderful way with words. I love this.

Reply

~tigereverskin Jan 24, 2010

_{i really do appreciate that. thank you, dear.}

Reply

*LAlight Jan 25, 2010 Hobbyist Photographer

Reply

~tigereverskin Jan 27, 2010

Reply

~Cellaneous Jan 24, 2010 Hobbyist Writer

This was enjoyed by me.
Thank you for being a good writer.

Reply

~tigereverskin Jan 24, 2010

_{that's an awesome thing for you to say.

(and thank you for being back. i missed you.)}

Reply

Previous
1
2
Next