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The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselves
and I began to wonder if that was the death of them.
A simple, quiet death;
without broken fingernails lining the walls
with the stripes of a despairing end.
I began to ache with the questioning in my heart
with the echoes reverberating in my capillaries
of her face scorching sunshine in her smile
right before it crumpled
and nothing was left but a frowning moon
set firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.
the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav
He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,
even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures
faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs
savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.
I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.

The record needle hits the groove wrong;
he stumbles over words that aren’t there,
rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.
He doesn’t write poetry anymore
and his confusion is strangely endearing.

But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,
poetic lines inserted between the daily grind
of character names and who said what;
voiceless boys in white a
Overgrown ColorsRed like blood on a rose.
White like bone and stars.
Black like reclusiveness.
Green like dead air.
Orange like the savage instinct.
Purity like a god's heart.
Red like thawing hatred.
White like a frozen, severe cry.
Black like the night's deprived shadows.
Green like the wind in the grass.
Orange like the light in the shadows.
Purity like the sun rising.
So discharging through the moon in a wheeze is like luminous white, dispersed red.
PocketLeftover religion in the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
A key that unlocks nothing
A penny, a scrap of paper
With half of your name
Written in black ink

A song that is usually in my head
In the shriveled carcass
Of a long-dead dream
In the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
With the lint
with thanks to frosttwo roads diverged in a soulless dawn
and you pull over,
idling on the shoulder of route 50.
it's a polaroid morning and
the world is as grainy
and sleep-heavy
as your eyes,
and one million miles
is not far enough.
it plays back, filmstrip,
blurred along the length of
optic nerves,
and here you are:
facing a choice between
on
and
out.
and this?
this loosejointed, hollowbodied
weightless ache--
this is what
gone
feels like.
Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,
their dreams condemned to ashes,
and our restless bodies stretch,
for forgiveness, for direction –

survivors of the abyss,
amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –
so many dead, so many maimed,

how many graves are we standing on, today?
SurelyIt was raining
when we kissed for the first time,
for the last time.

Thin rivulets
sunk into the shrunken space
between our bodies
and divided us
like nothing could before,
like everything will
from now
until that never again
when we will
see each other once more,
no more.

Your eyes were
that bewitching shade
of dull brown blue
with all of the light darkness
whirling
in a placid pond
around a pupil
overflowing with vacancy,
and me
and my frowning smile.

The winter heat
fell like a rising tide
and,
for our every breath
was another death
so black and full of life --
embracing our boiled ice skin
as we drew apart,
came together and broke free
SisterSister

A sister is like a soul mate;
Someone who is always there
to guide me through fate.

A sister is,
a part of childhood that I cannot erase;
A sister like you,
is one that I would never replace
because you always know how to
put a smile on my face.

I know I can depend on you
to always be there for me;
This is one hundred percent guaranteed!

I've had great memories with you
in the past;
and I hope there are many more
to come,
in the future.
Life, Death And A Pork Chop SandwichAll tangled up, hard to breathe
This steel cloud day that swirls
With heat and pounding hammers
I shake in my boots and cough up
Blood, rust and damaged flesh
Waiting for the second coming
Maybe next time around there'll be
Some chance for more than this

A twisted barbed wire halo
Wrapped tight around my skull
Blinding white light aura
Swarming with flies I'm flying
To pieces, thousands of shards
Cannot be brought back together
But I will remember the summer
Of my first Chevrolet in each bit

Gleaming bits of glass in the desert
Each reflecting a different moment
Still, now, enduring until the waves
Of a new ocean sweep them away
No pain
Pretty little things called words and dustif you weren't a hypocrite,
you'd be wrapped in the sweetest
perfumes
(learning
how to engulf the ocean
with your lungs
and think of how to cup it
in your hands
despite
your broken prayers and
still be beautiful)

dance with the gypsies
'till noon
(a quake in
your hips like the thrust
of continents
and the faultlines
emanating from
your spine,
but still
so, so graceful)

sing with the nymphs
in tune
(your voice,
it's growing old,
raspy even.
your throat's burning dry
like a monsoon
faltering in a desert,

and tones
still octaves
powerful)

be nestled in a king's arms
soon  
(oh, you precious
little thing.
how
Puppet  My tears fall,

      like invisible

               diamonds.

 My heart beats,

      like soundless

               drums.

 Unwanted,

       because of the

             strings attached.
A Night By the FireNo light,
The light sired by the night
All above whilst the day's delights
Now disappears from mortal sight.

Faded away is the sun's power,
Taking the stage now is night's sallow flower;
Now mortals may behold the stars and falling shower.

Set in a pit Nature's skyscraper ablaze
And revel in the emanating heat as you gaze,
Looking down on occasion when you hear a crack from the fire
And witness "fireflies" flying away from mother's blaze;
Dying shortly after but not lacking burning beauty do they desire!

I look out towards the teasing shore
And meditate as we sit upon her door,
Thinking on what my future has in store;
Who I am now and even
Why meI wanted sleep very badly
I tried my hardest to rest
I closed my eyes and laid there
But sleep didn’t come easy
I would doze off
And wake back up
Again
Why me? When I know I have to be up at 3 AM.
Seaside HolidayI am content
to stay
a caterpillar

Who says
you have
to change?

What's so great
about being
a butterfly?
Browse More Like This
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More from ~amannessyo

Is They Jacobs?have black eyes ever traced corners
can the make shift
and when they do; do your outlines melt together
are you just staring at yourself
the black lights to the streets then the flash of the law lights
the police cut my hands off; I'm pleading out
"BUT OFFICER THESE AREN'T CONFLICT DIAMONDS, they're crack rocks"
I understand these junkies like me, the incomprehensible emptiness
it bears it burns it bubbles it make absesses on ivory white
no more innards or cartilage to loose, no more mucus membranes
animus intstructions
they whip our backs, they give us a thousand lashings
i bite the chain links i break teeth
trudging twoard zi
ZoloftI'm gonna make you miss me, I'm going to take my God complex to a higher level.
Rewrite my suicide notes post them on facebook.
Set the cameras timer, instant uploads of me hanging from a cleiling fan

I'm gonna make you laugh take my wit with me wherever I go
Rewatch all the stand up I can
share just to crack jokes
watch you and wait for you weakness
instant humiliation

I'm gonna make you touch me take my self pity to the nearest crowded room
Think of how terrible I am
I scream and fall on the floor
kicking and yelling for bloody murder
instant embraces; yes I'm gonna make you love me.
Buckroe Beacha little girl sits right near the point where
the oceans frothy tide slaps against the sand.
she smiles quietly tasting the air
chewing on the sandy breeeze
nothing in the universe is more filling than this little girl and her shovel
not even the stand still of family photographs with faded baithing suits and fatheres farmers tan
the violent and tameless potential of oceanic destruction at the feet of this beautiful little girl.
the make believe hollywood walk of fame, shirley temple; marylin monroe
The sharks fin near the horizon, she day dreams of mermaids and sculpts sea tutles out of the ground
Riding on their backs blowing bubbl
Blue Toe NailsI welcome the aftermath and lack of luster behind hazel moonbeams
Staring upside down at deaths valley crawling on all fours
opening my mouth wider
swallowing his pride
because he said-
because he said-
because he said-
because he said to do it
open hands to rose cheeks
gripping my breasts while he holds the insides of my elbows
kicking my legs; flailing letting God cry for me
I refuse to play nice and hold hands

because he said-
because he said-
because he said-
because he fucking said-

God dosent want a relationship with a whore
The village idiot laughs at me from below
I've claimed sanctuary at the mountains peak
Chewi
Tell Them I've Just Been Shot Downthat dry mouth
those brown eyes
these slow movers; shaking
vibrating down these slopes
these micro organisims under microscopes
micro managing
that rig in hand
those blue outlines
these thrashing animals; scratching
clawing at these walls
these verves; this animation
that blood in full suspension
the dire suspense
suspending endings of growth
that vomit; reeking
those bathrooms stalls
these fingertips tracing; grazing
sliding down this sillhouette
these hairs raising
rising with the sun
that moonlight glare
those sweaty shaking thrashing lovers
The Death Of Amy and Craig 1I've heard people speak of mountains
you can move once your insides change
i 've heard them say I'll love you until you love yourself
which is so bad becaue I've never known real love
I've neer seen the winds change or felt them aginst my white fragile skin
just the burning fire of the sun to wake me from the dark pains of loss
same of how you smacking my face to get me out of my lust filled coma
when I'm nodding out during our make believe sex
youre just so clever darling
still hooking up
buying jumps
fooling around
calling me high
saying you arent
I'm completly drained and tottally insane
because within a week of
Craig and

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Her cum coated tounge sticks o

:iconamannessyo:

Her cum coated tounge sticks out at me
I smile back undoubtedly
Im sleeping with the enemy
Shes always asleep

Her body shakes as she goes against mine
I quiver as shes moves done the line
im sleeping with the enemy
Shes sleeping with my friends

Her pants slide down her tracked up legs
Im on my knees i plead and beg
Im sleeping with the enemy
Shes crawling on the kitchen floor

Her beaded skirt has rips and her stocking have runs
I put her in the shower another hopeless nights' begun.
Im sleeping with the enemy
Shes a fucking mess

Her child like trot her sweet perfume
Her allure skewing my crystal views
Im sleeping with enemy
Shes smashing my heart

Her pervocative gestures
Erk my insides
I stay up to make sure shes alive
Im sleeping with the enemy
She shot herself down

Her blackend viel in a crowded room
I heard them say "so young, too soon"
I slept with the enemy
Shes always asleep.
:iconamannessyo:
clean or sober i hate the person i am,but i still love the person we are inside each others junked veins.
:iconundertheshaydewood:
~UndertheShaydeWood Jan 30, 2013
Powerful and provokative. There is so much mystery here and loathing. The last stana really gets me, especially the lines, "I slept with the enemy/ she's always asleep." How it suddenly changed from "I'm sleeping with the enemy..." As if there is sudden realization that she's 'always asleep' Divided from ourselves. Looking in at our worst enemy, our own self, huddled against the toilet after last night's binge. Even now, I reek of alcoholand numbed desire, self-loathing ofa sort only true suicides have ever fathomed, yet I am a coward. Thank God. That doesn't help the pain. You speak to me on a brutal level hat comprehends all. Al and nothing. Thanks for returning to the page. You may hate the person you are, but there is a lot about you to admire.
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