[x]

Therapists, I don't like their taste.i.
in 7th grade
i didn’t know depression
until she told me her name,
carving forever scratches
along my limbs like
little love notes on the bark
of a tree.

she stole my rings
and left me hollow.

ii.
i had only ever met anxiety
in passing, until one day
he handed me power and told me
to hurt someone else with it.

iii.
inexperienced,
with an uncontrollable
quivering in my fingers,
he whispered, “ to survive,
you must learn quickly.”
as i shoved the bevel of a needle
into a strangers arm.

iv.
so, if a therapist
could talk away my scars
like iodine disinfects,
guide the ships
through

Please,don’t make me
fall in love with you,
again.

I don’t want to remember you,
those Sunday morning
wake-me-up kisses,
or the way your
lost boy eyes always,
always found a way
to find mine.

There are only so many times
I can allow you to slice
through my scar tissue
before I finally

fall
ap art.

lion boyi knew a boy with
eyes of gold & fire
in his footsteps.

he would roar to the
stars, declaring himself
as fearless as a king
& as regal as a lion.

"ad lucem,"
he would announce
every night when leo
would coax the virgin
from her radiant
castle.

five times around the
sun & loyal fangs bared
to shield his kingdom,
my lion boy
dances with flames.

No more than thisYou are nothing
to me -
yet
everything -
a sweet, sweet
poison
of words
and smiles
which I
welcome
like my
life's blood,
slipping,
indeterminate.
down into
the secret
chambers
of heart
and soul...
So when
I die,
I will
taste
the bitterness
and the
goodness
all at once
as the light
leaves
and the music
swells
and one last
sigh -
hear it,
feel it...
as I am
no more
than this...
Not any more
than this...

ExposureThe wind invites itself
from underneath my door,
it reaches under
it pulls open-
the leaves come in.
A bird hops over the
threshold and tilts its
head in quick, informative
motions.

The rains follow in
after the wind and
now I have to reason with
both the animals and the storm.

Those abandoned wooden barns
with one wall collapsed,
overgrown with vines and ferns.
The epitome of giving in.

I close the door
and all the windows,
leave it to the glass
to challenge the rain.

That little bird,
somewhere in here,
is searching for where
the wind has gone.

Thunder knocks
once, then
twice.

I imagine lying
on the hood of a car
beneath the desert su

Translucentand you always see right through
I've called it my masterpiece
but you've disapproved
you told me that you always preferred natural sunlight
to the dim sort of darkness I surround myself with
you've disapproved but I'm scared that it won't matter anyway

A little punk rocker with a gift for singing songsGirl with the rock and roll smirk curled behind her teeth
Burning her insides for fun because there wasn’t much else to do
Aside from skipping stones across car parks
And sipping the last dregs of forbidden liquor
Behind broken trees to keep up the act of normality

Late at night when the moon is asleep
She lies on dismantled bed frames
Counting stars because lambs are too often sent to the slaughter
Lucky star heartbeats and posy veins
Hides broken windows behind her pupils

Ceiling lights tracing patterns on her cheekbones
As late night contemplation's lead back to Rome
Atlas limbs curled into her ribs
With a sense of obligation she

ExperimentalistShe always said she was
An experimentalist.
I knew otherwise.
This girl was raised to
Believe that the ability of
Counting the bones in your
Rib cage is beautiful.
Sixteen years old
With sand in her blood
And shoulder blades
As sharp as knives
As long as wings.
That day I knew
Her smiles were painful
And her laughs were just
Recorded in her throat
From so much practice
In a life that was once
So happy.

i shouldn't write when i'm stonedpeople say you're
an asshole. but that's
okay because people say
i'm an asshole, too. maybe
that's one of the reasons
you love me and i love you.

but i think more than that,
i think the biggest reason
we're drawn to each other is
that neither of us fit anywhere.
we are both lonely. and we are sad.
but we don't care, and we love it.

we are good at being
alone. we are good at
being together. if i could,
i would paint a picture
of two souls tethered close
but sitting in separate rooms
and i would point to it. then you
would understand why we will
never come apart.

String TheoryThis is determination,
existential numbness in which
I drown from the paranoid spittle
of that dreary-eyed girl
lost in the mirror.

Jesus,
what would you do

if you saw me now, all grown in
to my predetermined curves and
the nihilistic fabrications knotted in my skin.

Maybe you still want to be
a brain surgeon. Maybe you still
weep when you’re happy and stop
when you’re lonely, drooping over like
the puppet no one remembered. Maybe
you still smoke like it’s a defiance, and love
like it’s a war; maybe time preserved you
like a corpse in formaldehyde, and maybe

you still think of me,
too.

Pack rats I want to be
that
stale as bread,
peeling
picture of her
that you
stow(ed) away
in the beating
of your breast
pocket

this habiti have this habit of thinking without thinking.

my mind will be walking down a road
between cities

while i am plugging away at the factory,
while i am putting groceries away.

if someone were to ask me what i was thinking,
i wouldn’t know what to say.

i would have to wait hours,
long after they’ve gone,

until my mind comes through the door,
tracking all manner of shit onto the floor,

and explains himself.

Love LettersWith their condescending ink
They wrote patterns of gold
Upon parchment leather paper
Within letters of words foretold

Perhaps with this envelope
And its rose tainted scent
I can find peace in myself
In the summer days spent

Where I took in the musky smell
Of your heart.
As I held it against my chest
I picked up a pen and began to start

Dear love, oh love
How I wish to see your lovely face
These days, these mornings are
What keep me hoping in sovereign grace...

Sea sonnet for the girl with ocean eyesShe was southern Californian storms
On a good day
When the skies nursed the shoreline like a wound
And the rain tasted like two scoops of mint chip ice cream

She held the nebula in her palms
And poured it out onto the sidewalk
So that the gutters would have something
To talk about at night

She swallowed the ocean
And held it in her eyes
deep pools
Of mountain rock blue straining against the sky
The bluest eyes I’d ever seen
Sparrow girl with the breathless wings

Embellished in vinyl’s and cassette tapes
Gramophone gilded lashes and half-moon wrists made up
Paper tapestries taped together with Shakespeare and Green

Sunday mor

Alaska is hiding behind her eyesA girl caught up in the same game
Where circus tricks and trapeze artists
Are nothing compared to the burning of lungs
Where insomnia stains the people’s smiles
In a pale wash of sea foam angst bottled up and thrown
Into the horizon where the sky meets the earth
In a disjointed seam

She had hurricane rage eyes
And wishbone sleeves pulled tightly across her chest
To suppress her Medusa heart from cracking
The stars open and drinking their flames

Ocean funeral where Chaconne
Is played to sirens and sea urchins
Coiled beneath the oily depths of seascapes
Where her kite string spines push against the thin membrane
Of split grin skie

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More from ~elenkap

Broken InsideI'm so cold
So numb inside
I'm surprised
To still be alive
It's just so cold
Frozen inside
Not feeling a thing
I'm a frozen wasteland
Just so cold
So numb inside
That's my mind
What my body feels
So cold and sick
Frozen inside
I'm surprised
To still be alive
As my body is broken
Just cold inside
Frozen alive
That's my body
Ready to die
Yet still alive
Frozen inside
Still in my mind
I'm alive
Yet broken inside
In my frozen mind

Live another DayMy innocence is gone
Yet still I'm alive
Living through the day
Taking it slowly
One moment at a time
That's all I can handle
As I've seen too much
Done too much
Lived through hell
And came back fighting
My innocence is gone
Yet still I live
I'm lucky to be alive
To fight another day
To my dismay
That's all I can say
To live another day

My Wild RideI love living on the edge
The drama, the chaos
Adrenaline pumping
In my system
The power of the thrill
It keeps me on edge
As I chase my next conquest
Seeking something dangerous
Eluding to my wild side
I live on edge
Looking for thrills
Amusements
To keep me occupied
So I'm satisfied
As I go on my wild ride
My dangerous side

The Secret I HoldI have a secret
That only I know
This secret is mine
No one can know
What this secret holds
Only I know
The hidden side
Within this secret of mine
For this is my story to tell
It's been in hell
This secret inside
I must hide
No one must know
What the secret holds
Only I know
What is mine to hide
With this secret inside

Making ConnectionsWe make connections
We are interlinked
Through friends
Everyone engages
In social connections
Making friends
Meeting people
From around the world
Everyone is connected
Through the link in space
As friendships are made
A chain of connection
We are interlinked
Through the world at large
Meeting each other
Learning to be friends
We make these connections
We are interlinked…

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A Helping Hand

by ~elenkap, Feb 18, 2007, 4:03:51 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

People need a helping hand
To guide them to something
That can make a life better
Improving someone’s state of mind
Just being there for someone else
Making miracles happen
That’s what life should be
With people who care
With someone to share
Doing good where it’s needed
Changing someone’s life
So their fate is better
Lending a helping hand
So they can stand
Changing the world
One step at a time
Creating miracles
Where one’s are needed
Being there for someone else
Thinking of them not just yourself
Lending a helping hand
So they can stand…

A Helping Handby ~elenkap

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

A Helping Hand.

*VeronicaIsabel Feb 25, 2007 Hobbyist General Artist

:+favelove:

Nice.

~elenkap Feb 25, 2007 Photographer

Thank you.

*VeronicaIsabel Mar 2, 2007 Hobbyist General Artist

You're welcome.

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A Helping Hand

A Helping Handby ~elenkap

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