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The Daily Sentence ProjectShe shifts her thighs to the same angles
where tectonic plates exchange glances.
The infant in her arms coos in haiku,
the phone crouching on her shoulder
barking in blank verse and bank terms;

where has the affection been displaced?

Perhaps the both of them are three full-
time jobs past romance and two cases
of chickenpox past the seven-year-itch

to be able to tell that dishwater softens
and oatmeal baths becalm their hands.

The kitchen tile is a haphazardous haven
for cloven shoes. She prefers slip-ons.

hyperdontiasometimes it feels as if
I have too many milk teeth,
too many parts of me that belong
to a time when I climbed trees to touch the sky
and I swam in sunflowers
and fireflies -
to a time I have long since
painted in sepia tones,
long since pushed
to the back of my mind
with hands so tired
of being filled with splinters
- too many seeds
and not enough light.

there are too many parts of me
that I have placed underneath pillows,
that I have kept behind closed lashes,
that I have slept upon, waiting
for the morning to arrive and them
to be g o n e ,
replaced with coins that I could place
underneath the tongues of the dreams
that I could not fer

lukewarmshe had the kind of voice
that seemed to be stuck
in the hour of four o'clock
in the morning - soft
and tired and luring,
mumbling her way through
subways and tunnel lights
all pale yellow with noise.

there was tea and long baths
and longer absences,
hiccups of breath
the best
she could do.
long springs and
longer falls,
one equinox to the next
and still the bad
was never that bad
and the good
was never that
good,
and she continues to hum
the birds continue to sing
the apples continue to
grow and
sour and
fall,

and bury themselves
again.

to be a floristcut me.
press your metal into my spine.
thread it gracefully
along my insides and out
the nape of my neck.
twirl it gently (don't
hurt yourself) around my skin.

boast proudly, how you shaped me,
how you spun me in your arms,
how you affixed my gaze upright...
how you made me look so perfect
while i slowly turned and died.

snakeI will slough off
all my feelings for you
like a second skin
for somebody else
to slip into

RestlessI’ve been living in the same breathy dream
for too many days now; I’m bed-ridden and
stale and I reek of those moments that come
full throttle like a car crash on a winter night

   this is evolution where weak hearts
   are afraid of the shadows and where
   everything changes,
   an apologetic wind births no remorse;
   he will move on—anchored ship
   set sail, I am the sunken wreckage
   that never learned how to swim.
   he will move on, Darwin says
   I never had a chance

I wish I were the textbook sadness,
symptom and solution and endurance
but I’ve spent too long sleeping on the

don't forget to let me go(the worst thing I’ve ever been
is an accident)

my words have no filter and I am
too many apologies bound
together by the stringent belief
tomorrow is worth more than today—

remember that summer when I was
beautiful? all covered in amber fog
and delivered like a dream. I was
a porcelain promise, a lavender
whisper, a breathtaking cancer,
and so many other precious things

I just want to go back to that
time where I was unmolded by
mistakes and words unsaid
(it was never you

I have spent too long trying
to drain out every tear from
the ocean, my love,

simple tasks are for the
weak of heart, it was
never you)

I am still be

Depressiondried food, caked and peeling on the counter.
the bread developed gangrene; it cannot be severed.
i am rotted meat with lowercase ego;
in the morning, chalk tablets pilfer tiny bits of soul.

seekerI wander much through such old country,
a ghost who's thinking of other ghosts,
missing them and their effects,
an exile from the present, and from past.

wakingi split myself in two in the face of my reflection:
sin, love. distressed and castrated in the wake
of your ministrations, your lips:
you handled me
so, so disjointedly. rickety, brittle air breaking
in my lungs.

no.

get up! stomp this from my bones, forest
creature. breaking plates.
sprigs of new life
springing up between the spaces of shattered glass.
wild flowers will bloom here after this
apocalyptic tragedy.

i never intended to remain whole, my dear.
i will wake.

i will let this river carry me to the end of myself;
quiet and still in the palms of her current. she will
break me on the rocks
and i will seep into the pores of the earth,

fallsnowi remember when it began, a snowflake trapped in eyelashes
waking up to find my feet cold and buried white
the window menacing as crystal fangs grow

it fell faster, stalking, none the wiser but me
as the supermarkets grew slippery
and offices turned to caves made of ice
even under the sun, an avalanche

gushing like a river, the frozen powder covered all
children and birds became paper puppets in play
how odd to see the snowpeople alive

i walked, just a ghost

as it fell, and fell

but nobody saw

and nobody cared

it's not that bad
just me and the snow

and the blizzard finally blinded me
only winter left in my mind

Southern Belle - 4Ray of scattered light -
a flicker pearls
crests momentarily
hovers above the water
escaping - a flash of orange -
lands back into the mirage

your entitlementsgolden hour lovers
in lieu, lament
on essence of opiate summers
upon wet roads of a subterranean pandora
Ophelia with crimson epiphanies
senses the grey blaze tides
of trepidation--
to you, bereaved orphan,
windows of lost causes and solemn mantras
to her
seas of callous ether,
the birth of struggle,
the primordial existence,
unchanging and starved of
the patterns of wisdom

Pilot HeartThe day you left the front door open the air was heavy with dishonesty, whether it was yours or mine I cannot say.
I was born in riddles - my father remains ignorant of my existence even now - so I apologize for the answer you wished to know but never received; questions find their home in my bloodstream, so like the oxygen that gives me life.
It is no wonder that between us we turned an ordinary morning into one laced with fading memories; you wanted to drive me insane just as much as I wanted to stay the way I was.

You were born into the straight and narrow cut of military life. The child of a pilot, you learnt to soar early and each summ

In Search of PunctuationThe exhausted traveler hung his
      ampersand
on its hook, dragging his eyes across
   and through the curves
looking for any signs of sharpness
or flatland meadows; somewhere
  he might rest.
He found nothing but
undulations
rhythmic swells and
the faint hands of an impresario
crafting the journeyrock
   below his feet.
"No matter,
I suppose." But his cellular
structure was ringing
in his ears,
demanding audience &

Browse More Like This

More from ~photosynthetichuman

downbreakfalling

i crack

to begin breaking apart

an unrepairable gear

brain, shh

i have to keep quiet

with no idiom or phrase

but

the sky fell

and

no one mentions it

and

i think my mind is pulling away

words in this put i can how

honestly

hating

these gushing thoughts

think

can't think

don't think

why think

a slow mental murder

ghost in the machine

slipping in and out

teasing

torturing

stop talking

as i sit

stand

the fool on the stool

wondering about these

soft walls

and

tight jackets

beatoffgirls are all dwee dwee dwee
guys are all doo doo doop

inshutcold season, dark month
locked inside, safe away
empty boxes and bottles

half eaten pizza and wine
dirty laundry for warmth
delightful mess

keyboard covered in ashes
the smell of death lingers
from unwashed loins

watching love stories
forgeting about others
no sleep, no memories

i have my aliments
i have my distracions
i have all i need
under my armor of grime
leave me alone

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feelingfunny

by ~photosynthetichuman, Jan 30, 2013, 2:09:47 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

catfish in a fish farm
staring at the sky
to dream about the sea

236

14 17 6

feelingfunnyby ~photosynthetichuman

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For the fourth bi-monthly prompt of "The Poetical Condition" at #PoeticalCondition. At least that's what comes to mind if someone asked me what the poetical condition is.

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Submitted on: January 30
File Size: 193 bytes

Views: 236 (1 today)
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=DailyLitDeviations 3 hours ago

Your wonderful literary work has been chosen to be featured by =DailyLitDeviations and has been selected as our "Pick of the Day". It is featured in a news article here: [link] and on our main page.

Be sure to check out the other artists featured and show your support by

ing the News Article. Keep writing and keep creating.

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`dreamsinstatic May 24, 2013 Professional Writer

Your fantastic work has been featured in the 100th edition of Friday Night Features.

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*AMWeitz Feb 2, 2013 Student Writer

This is so, so simple...I'll admit it, I almost gave in to the urge to skim it, and quickly move on. But I forced myself to stop, and suddenly, wow, here I am, crying.

Reply

~photosynthetichuman Feb 3, 2013

Oh stop, you'll make me cry. Too late, crying. Glad it caught your eye, thank you for the touching comment.

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*AMWeitz Feb 3, 2013 Student Writer

:')

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`vespera Feb 2, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I love what you did with this prompt

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~photosynthetichuman Feb 3, 2013

I love that you think so. Thank you.

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`vespera Feb 4, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

welcome

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*glossolalias Feb 2, 2013

your work has been featured here: [link] please go check out the other pieces & have a nice day

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~photosynthetichuman Feb 3, 2013

Oh my, as always, quite humbled and thankful to be among such great pieces of poetry.

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