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Literature
warmer and warmer
the drapes
greet me
an unpleasant
morning.
the sink
drip
   drip
      drips
again
& the tiles
are colder barefoot.
there is a pile of
newspapers on the
marble counter
& dead quiet
in the air-
until steam
billows from
the coffee mug.
sunlight
beams in the room
like a visitor
& breakfast
comes in with
a sweet smile.
it was 6:30 when
i was alone,
but 7:00
arrived
like a neighbor
& i am happy.
i have myself,
oversized t-shirt
& messy hair
& the warm
comfort of my
own skin.
i was alone.
i'm not anymore.
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 11 9
Literature
sludge
you bleed like a fountain
when the tides aim for saltwater sky
& all you want to do is drown-

i wonder how long it’ll take for you
to stop writing like that.
once upon a time, you were blue
train tracks rolling down cigarette
addiction and soft metaphors.
your mother had no way of recognizing you
from the sallow skin
and crevice-deep wrinkles.
you were a cliche
romanticizing the evenings,
wishing you were dead
on paper.
a beating heart floats for
30 years in stagnant waters,
fragmented like glass windows
& diluted bottle messages.
you were polluted rivers,
deadfish-the
flow of words
gone
as you sit there with your
computer static
electricity
yeah, you and your click-click-
clicks in that blank, blank space.
your typewriter doesn’t exist
but you press the keys too hard
as if it shows some promise.
you read book after book after book
trying to declutter shit.
nothing comes up.
this goes on for a few more years
until you pile dust &
every bottle you drink has
a burnt ou
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 20 14
Literature
grow, growing, growth
it's beautiful to witness dispassion
when the dreams
drift
silently away from the body like a secret.
it's as if the moment meant to give my life surrender
guises as an average day with me
washing the dishes
sipping on coffee
ready for small reflections
how did it ended up like this?
'i'm not the kindred spirit
i once was. but no matter.
i'm late by 30 minutes
& life's moving without
me.'
ten years ago, i dreamed of writing short stories Time might consider having.
now i'm just running out of time and stories altogether.
worrying about how i'll make it
now considers small, grave details like
time management
and skills
and resumes
and
listen to me babble
like my 14-year-old self.
no wonder.
no wonder peter pan
never wanted to grow up.
it was never the matter
of never having fun
it was overthinking
about what was ahead
if i was gonna have fun
following my heart
& wake up with an empty
stomach
is a fear any parent
never wants for a child
but mine is when i take
a look at my
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 10 5
Literature
why the water is one big piece of unrequited
the ocean holds no place for fishermen; no hungry sailor looking for a mermaid to sink his teeth into. but these days, their net hands tangle into dolphins and pufferfish and stingrays; women with sea salt hair & barefoot soles wandering about—their soles caught at the edge of their wrists as they swim toward the danger zone. there’s a reason why it’s blue.
blood and oil spill all over her belly, afterthoughts drowning in sadness. there is no place for warfare but the space holds everything like a sky hungry for clouds. she is the only piece of quiet left, intoxicated, drifting her own drunk shipwreck searching for rescue—
imagine waving to the wind with your hands trying to reach the heavens, your lips endlessly kissing the tides. nothing but rejection. you drown everyone in your ceaseless surrender and all they ever do is destroy you.
everyday, her bloated coral children are taken away from her and all she does is wave. the sea is no place for loneliness with
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 10 9
Literature
(un)romanticism
she reaches out
into the light
and i remember how
heavy my heart felt
when i first saw her
she is a golden sort
of beautiful
and i'm too awkward.
when these lungs are
less poetic, my
words churn out
the ability
to speak.
face
teeth
lips
cheekbones
her cheekbones
lift a face
moonlit in my
subconscious
she's a daydream
trapped in the lining
of my pillow
& in hollowness;
when my body
drags out like a zombie,
her face is there
hands.
she is so vivid
and so delicate
like a lost little
ankle-bare beast.
kiss
in darkness,
she's a candle
i can't touch
& things became
less romantic
for me
when i learned how
to have a broken heart
from a girl
who never knew
me.
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 7 5
Literature
Belva
she is honey curls
and honeysuckle,
golden sweet
wherever the sun touches.
on most days, her lips
curl the slightest smile-
head tilted where
the sky is but a
touch of blue-
and utters the word
'beaut(if)ul'
in question.
her feet shuffle
and her arms
close like a space
too narrow
for the word
to reach
like silent syllables
in French;
graceful and unspoken.
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 12 6
Literature
vertigo and bruised knees in summer
   the world's
 whirring trapped
  in summer skull
ears bloated &
  the spine's interstitial
fluid in a heated
 frenzy with prickly
  skin and
   cruel
       sun
 the body is heavy
  with the weight
 on wobbly, bruised
  knees  
 the air
thick with
breathing
the
  head
    imploding
& these ears
 oh these
   ears
trapped needles
 & bullets
& the pain of
 stumbling
the art of
    fainting
am i
   spinning
or  is  the  world
  s p i n n i n g
around me?
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 7 6
Literature
look at the mirror and fall in love at first sight
give yourself a flower
and wear your favorite
sweater
sit in a nice, quiet
little coffee shop
and meet yourself
with that first sip
of warmth
and a smile.
in the afternoon,
walk to the nearest park
and hold your hands
together
as if in a prayer
like a lover's dream,
be sweet to yourself
for once.
let the kid with the waffle cone
and his mother
stare at you for 45 seconds
while you feed the birds
hang those insecurities
by the door
or tuck them away
somewhere
in your cabinets
or drawers-
just take them off
today,
pick a hot red dress
and buy yourself
a drink for two
tonight,
mirror at one end
of the table
and your love
at the other.
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 126 80
Literature
Haku from Chihiro
The grass fields were as delicate as the spring wind that kept me close to these flightless wings in this wide, open space. Dusts of you lay bare on this mountain, in the air breathing out rain and sun, in dirt and rivers running through this cup of earth you once called home. Every wildflower popping out of this brown shell bent toward the bank where you used to swim, your hands reaching out to some fish or some lost pebble smooth as your skin.
It was a cry for birds, your laughter. How it rolls and tumbles like their nests when the air kisses every dancing tree with a passion. You rarely did laugh, much less smile, and I look for it in every second. I look for you the moment I wake up at dawn when the world is still half-asleep--in the gentle aching sky hoping you were just some lost cloud out of touch. In every sip of tea, in every bite of breakfast. I always keep the window open.
You were in every flower petal, every moon drum beating against the fever of the night. So graceful yet
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 9 11
Literature
visiting Melville
my fingers feel the dents
of the boat's curved bed
puddled with mud water, nails
slipping through knots
like a ghost--
a landscape
with fishnet frames
and a barefoot sole
where the living used to reside.
it is here where he rests,
a cane on one corner
and a harpoon in the other--
sailor hands and a room
filled with smoke
as he waves his warm welcome.
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 9 12
Literature
tea.
hot steam fades
from the cup
dense with the seasons
of leaves
darjeeling comfort
inhaled by the morning
as the city wakes
itself to a brightness
of milk and honey
I smile and bring the
sun's fragrant warmth
to my lips
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 27 36
Literature
To Holden Caulfield and my grandfather
on the day you were buried
it was warm and sunny out
and little children played all day-
how ironic.
it’s also ironic how they handed
out flowers to your bones
beneath dirt
when they couldn’t do it
with your bones
intact with pumping blood
and warm skin
the cycle of life turning to death
is being thrown at your face,
petals counting off
the days you wasted drunk
with regret wishing
you kissed her
or how you should never
have given away yourself so easily
so fast
or how you were never
suppose to die
alone
with your heart
tiring itself out from
giving you all the time
you will never get back
the stem bent
toward you
like a big i told you so
with its empty head
and shriveled body
flowers.
why flowers?
could’ve been that bottle full of
paper stars you made when
you were seven
or that Little Shirley Beans
record you smashed
the first morning you had
a hangover-
some souvenir to turn
into your own personal
landmark
other than your coffin
because flowers are
a grave for the
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 59 61
Sahara by brokengod--veins Sahara :iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 6 6
Literature
where is your god?
That lip-stained,
unwritten glory
has reached its
end.
   No longer will
the universal
screenplay
be about you
and your wonders
as you quietly observe
these unfurling curiosities
in dark, dusty cornered
alley-ways and zig-
     zagged one-way streets
     Fate has
   turned into
    a question
    and so has the
    importance of
    Your name,
these inner temples
of barefoot religion
spreading their
fingers in question
to your existence--
   Yet we chose to believe still.
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 11 4
Literature
Black Widow
The first time we met,
I kept our distance
at minimal,
hoping the inches
would form a small bridge
between us
and that one day
we could sew each others'
limbs when our
bones have learned
to give up.
But I mistook you
so severely:
your kisses
were flesh wounds
and your embrace
a coffin too tight
around my ribs-
your hands were never
meant for holding.
The sheets of skin
and whitewash were
a cocoon at night
as your teeth
sink into me;
my body of craters
and fissure-deep dents
close to
falling
apart
inside
you
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 10 22
Literature
To Mother
I was the unexpected,
that I admit
I also admit
that after almost seventeen
years of trying and believing
I understand nothing
other than the reasons
why you're my mother
It's a struggle
to be so different
from the woman
everyone loves
with utmost respect
to be that comparison
no one expects
to come out from
something so beautiful
But the greatest struggle
of all, mother,
is how hard I try
to ignore that ten-year
gap between us without
removing the curiosity
I had so many questions
while you were away,
and still do-
but the more I ask
the less I understand
The phone call from far away
when I was ten
The big, white house
and everyone in it
The pack of lies
and frustration
I have to swallow,
pretending I'm a ghost
       It's a fact that I'm different
       in this roof because everyone
       understands you but me
I'm not the child
you think I was
am
or will be
and I have to grow up
but I can tell
how much
neither of us
wants
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 12 6
:heart::heart:Feedback Please :D by tRiBaLmArKiNgSLove Critiques by tRiBaLmArKiNgS:heart::heart:

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brokengod--veins's Profile Picture
brokengod--veins
Kriz-Sn. Get it?
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Philippines
say hi to my face.

pasta,coffee,dogs,reading and a whole lot of [weird] thinking left in the reincarnation of a 17-year-old body...

I write, mostly. Sometimes draw, fangirl, watch movies and do crafty shit.

A hug for you! :hug:


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Sidenote:
I'm not the best writer out there, but I hope I made you smile somehow, at least with a :hug: and a :iconsuperheroglompplz:. :)

Have a hug and a nice day! :huggle:

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:iconadrolyn:
Adrolyn Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2016  Hobbyist Digital Artist
have a nice birthday :party: :cake: :party:  =)
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:iconbrokengod--veins:
brokengod--veins Featured By Owner Nov 12, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
OMG this is so late but thank you! <3
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:iconithaswhatitisnt:
ithaswhatitisnt Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday! :tighthug: :heart: :iconrainbowcakeplz: I hope you're having a lovely day!! :squee:
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:iconbrokengod--veins:
brokengod--veins Featured By Owner Nov 12, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
OMG I MISSED YOU! <3
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:iconunfaithfulstars:
unfaithfulstars Featured By Owner Jul 4, 2016  Student General Artist
I don't think we've been properly introduced, but hello, fellow poetess. :heart: I have never told you but I adore your lit tag immensely. It looks like a zoom-in of waves, and I might be wrong, but anyway, it's lovely. But even more lovely is your writing! I have yet to finish reading all your pieces... but I admire you very much as a poet, and please keep up the great work. Have a spectacular day! :hug:
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:iconbrokengod--veins:
brokengod--veins Featured By Owner Nov 12, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
This was the sweetest thing I read all day. thank you, love! <3 More power to you!
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:iconazuline-furcula:
azuline-furcula Featured By Owner Mar 11, 2016
Thank you.
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:iconbrokengod--veins:
brokengod--veins Featured By Owner Apr 28, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
<3 <3
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:iconbrokengod--veins:
brokengod--veins Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
I always scavenged for tutorials like this because poetry's my expertise and I want to improve in short stories :huggle:

Not a bad gallery :)
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