Check it out if you want.
I'm going to try to update it on a daily basis.
I'll still post here too, just less.
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Titanic.This is my apologyTitanic. by ~alkalineuh
for all the days I wasted thinking I could save
a relationship sinking at the speed of light.
I thought I could make lifeboats out of paper,
and save at least one of us from drowning.
I was never afraid of the sea, but I was dead scared
of all the things I knew you’d never see in me,
so I tried to waterproof our bedroom with Ziploc bags
and desperate wishes on stars that didn't give a fuck.
When I met you, I knew I’d be willing to die for you.
I just never thought that’s what you’d want me to do.
It stormed in our living room for a week,
and we pretended it was beautiful. We joked
about how it wou
The comic book nerd breaks up with you.You told me I was your kryptoniteThe comic book nerd breaks up with you. by ~alkalineuh
because you knew I loved comic books,
but you got it wrong. I was always more
of a Spider-Man kind of girl.
That’s our relationship there:
you trying to show me that you care,
but proving that you never really did.
You only pay attention to say you do,
but I’m a Spider-Man kind of girl.
I need Peter Parker always willing to save
Mary Jane. I need Peter Parker amazed
by how brilliant Gwen Stacy is.
I don’t need Superman saving the world
but refusing to tell me he’s Clark Kent.
I don’t need what you think you can give me
and I don’t need you either.
Terminal.Your lover’s skin is peeling offTerminal. by ~alkalineuh
and you think of oranges
because it’s easier than
thinking of how unfair
the world is with its storms
and diseases that always take.
There is always a metaphor
to make pain look like a bouquet
of dandelions, like dandelion seeds
flying away with the wind,
but this time there will be no flying,
no flowers, no erasing this.
He’s sick. He’s peeling away.
Soon, there will be nothing left
but the demons eating away at him,
and you will be nothing more than
alone with all your metaphors
and bouquets of oranges.
a portrait of my apartment.On my yard sale bought table,a portrait of my apartment. by ~alkalineuh
I have a bouquet of paintbrushes
in a coffee mug, used black pens,
and enough art supplies to open
a small store for poor art majors.
I have a bookshelf that’s full, so
I’ve been building towers of books
on my cheap plywood floor. There
is a permanent stench from all the
drinks I've accidentally spilled.
My drawer is full of clothes that
aren’t mine. It’s amazing how kind
people are when you’re poor so
long as you still look rich, and I
am the world’s greatest illusionist.
I stapled a sheet to the window
because I couldn’t afford curtains.
It doesn’t block t
