Young Writers Society

your boots are filling with your own damn blood

because you want to die for love.
you always have.

18+

do not go gentle

hand me bullets to keep in my medicine cabinet
tell me, teeth against skin, cigarettes against skin
the whispers of oceans breaking against your rib cage
the shouts of waves braking against your rib cage.

kiss me, clumsy--almost not a kiss at all
try to choke me at night with my own tongue,
you get me stuck on words that aren't really mine
so that i forget the words that were yours.
teeth against skin, cigarettes under skin,
everything between me and you shattered and shoved under the bed.

I really really love the "kiss me clumsy" line, I kind of want it printed on a shirt. The poem as a contrast to Dylan Thomas' really brought out the double rib-cage lines as more compelling. I also love the technique of the imperative voice pounding against the reader again and again, that is a powerful technique and I love it too paired with the fragility of the piece. Good stuff!

god, if i don't believe i'm cursed


that morning-- dark broiling waves on the ocean, the ramones blaring,
fists pounding the dashboard, driving too fast, lips talking too fast, everything unfair split into pieces and scattered on the hospital room floor. when i left and came back you were still crying.

that morning-- quiet rain hanging on trees, misty mountain top lullaby
tears against collarbones and the begging for you to stay, the pleading
you're so tired, i can tell and i just let your breath go for just a second-- let you stop for just one second.

that morning-- angry thunder and even angrier lightning, nothing but silence
every alternative universe in my hands and i still feel my heart shatter when i look at you.

that morning-- panicked tornadoes, panicked hurricanes, everything in my head screaming, the sound of beeping
you cried because the machines woke you up. i kissed you and told you stories about princesses braver than me. they can handle it when their prince goes to rescue someone else.

that morning-- bright skies, not a cloud, piano music on the radio
hand in hand and soft lips against cheeks, you're sleeping and i watch you. all i can think about is breathing.

that morning-- blank everything. a slate washed clean. someone sings down in the valley
i tell you i love you one more time. you can't answer. i'm not allowed to cry so i just look at you.

<3

i like my body when it is with your body

i wrote an email to the rain, asking it to stop.
but the clouds bounced back an automated reply
the sky didn't get my message.
i guess this is where it ends,
me watching the water tangle your hair
me finishing off the lucky cigarette in my second pack.
(it didn't give me luck, just gave you a cough)

do you remember, darling, last summer?
when the stars hung low from the sky
when my smoke made a halo around your head?
i kissed you on the mouth till my nose bled.
your hair smelled like campfires and marlboros,
but at least i could run my fingers through it.

god, if i don't believe i'm cursed -- I've heard this story in different ways, but I like it a lot in this form.

two brothers: one of them wants to take you apart
two brothers: one of them wants to put you back together

one.
i smoked a cigarette on the banks of the missisippi with tom and huck last night. they took me to their cave and showed me all their treasures.
they said look at all these wonders we found for you
this is all for you, becky thatcher. all the jewels and love and pirate booty we could find.
they said look here and here for the mysteries of life
we'll know all the answers and read them as bedtime stories when you're sleepy.
they said look to the river for the answers.

huck lit a fire because i was cold
tom put his hands inside my jacket to keep himself warm.
i bit into his neck because i liked the way his hands felt,
huck went and found more firewood.
i said i never noticed how sad the back of someone looks
when it's lit up by a fire they built against a dark night.
tom blew smoke in my face, and said i don't like it when you say the word sad. stop and look at me instead.

two.
when we all went home
huck slept next to me,
shot all my wolves with his gun.
he said, i don't like it when you look sad. let me fix it for you.
here are all the jewels and love and pirate booty i could find.
let me tell you stories of indians and adventures you can only dream of.
let me dig a hole in the ground with a spoon, cover you with earth so you stay warm.
let me light a fire so i can see your face better.

three.
i'm not sure where tom went.

he's still left with his hands

a man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river
the smell, that's what i hate the most.
the smell of dirt and grime and sweat and tears and death
all hidden under a layer of if we don't talk about it it's not happening
if we don't tell him, he won't feel it.
he feels it.

no, scratch that, sounds is what i hate most.
it's never quiet.
you want to sleep but you can't because someone wants you to get up and dance
someone wants you to perform, dance for them monkey, dance and show them how you're okay.
dance for them so we can go home.


he's still left with the river
they lock you in a room and tell you it'll make you better
they tell you they know the magic cure, that everything will be okay
just take your pain and shove it down till you can swallow it without choking.
they fill you with poison and call it love.
they fill you with dark rooms and no windows and call it medicine.
(they they they they)
be still, you'll mess up the wires keeping you alive.
be still, you'll mess up the ropes keeping you from dying.
everything is a contradiction and i don't like the way you look at me like you can't see me.
can you speak for me, baby? do you have any words left? is it all screams?
in my head you're screaming and kicking and begging me to help you.
i'm sorry.


a man takes his sadness and throws it away
there are nights i hide all your drawings from myself and stare at my blank walls instead.
i try to pretend i'm you.
i pretend i feel you in my veins and for a second everything is okay.
and then everything burns and i wish i hated you, i wish i had never met you, i wish you didn't exist.
and then everything burns and i wish you were still here, i wish i had met you sooner, i wish i had held you longer.

when i try to pretend i'm you i'm not in a room with wall paper circus animals.
i'm outside, in the grass, in the mud, in the trees.
i'm laughing, you're laughing, everyone's laughing.
no one's smiles are painted on, no one's mouths are full of lollipop red blood.
i'm happy, you're happy, everyone's happy.

you were burned, you were about to burn, you're still on fire

1.
after you've had sex enough,
you start to forget what it feels like for your skin to be on fire.
he knows you and you know him and you do what you do and at the end you both get out your phones and watch funny vines.

2.
but then sometimes you feel his eyes on your back,
at a party, everyone pushing everyone out of the way to see everyone else wrapped up in fake sex appeal and covered in too much eyeliner.
he doesn't touch you but you know, when you smoke those cigarettes and laugh at jokes that aren't his,
there is still something there.
under the bed, forgotten about.
you haven't forgotten it.

3.
your skin is on fire.
your skin is on fire.
you want him to be on fire too.
you hold matches up to his marlboro skin
and watch him light.

the prayer of going nowhere going nowhere

a half mended soul is better than none at all

this is what you decide, at 3 am,
staring yourself in the eye in the bathroom mirror.
you don't look familiar to yourself anymore.
all the blood and guts and gore and hate
bottled up and sold to this highest bidder.

the sound of your ribs clattering to the floor

after another night of pacing
after another night of tossing the bullet back and forth between your hands
after chanting your suicide note to the sound of the running shower
after another night of remembering you have work in the morning and
shit--


you gather up everything you have left

muster up your courage, your motivation, your sanity
slap the tape onto your heart for another night
leave the echoes of yourself in the hollow hole
in the shell of yourself that you keep in the closet
for safe keeping.
the skeletons of every person you ever were clicking shut behind you
to guard the door when you come home.
the skeletons of every person you ever were chattering nonsense
so you can't fall asleep.

listen: there's a hell
of a good universe next door; let's go

your brown eyes, his green, my blue.
your slender hands unwinding my rib cage knots,
his lips breaking my puzzles into bite sized pieces--
my feet taking steps towards the door and hoping you don't notice.

your suitcases, his paper bags, my dirty laundry.
you carry me to bed when i fall asleep too early and tell me about dragons
that are too kind and get murdered by the evil prince.
my prince--him-- he takes me into the shower to wake me up,
tells me of the fires he fought to find me.
i wrap my broken fingers in scotch tape--
i run out before they're all back together.

your hardwood floors scratched by the dog you didn't even want,
his bathroom mirror cracked by the girl who wasn't supposed to spend the night
my doorbell never ringing before midnight--
but always waking me up in the morning.

the stars walk backwards

my seas catch fire
and all you see
is light.

my head is bloody

did i tell you about the dream i had?
about where you took off all my clothes
doused them in gasoline
used the fire to light my cigarettes,
smoked them for me--
told me, if this is where it ends
then this is where it ends
then this is where it ends
where it ends
ends.

did i tell about what happened when i woke up?
i still smelled the smoke and my head was foggy
and you were nowhere and everywhere and
i forgot you were gone and remembered you were here
and you were nowhere and everywhere
you are nowhere
you are everywhere.

did i tell you what happened when i climbed back into our bed?
the sheets didn't smell like you anymore.
your damn dog climbed into it while i was gone and now it smells like wet dog
and you're gone and all i have is a dog, a memory
and four dreams that are all the same.
and in the dreams you take my heart and you tear it apart
and just before you wake me up you tape it back together
tell me-- it's all okay because i love you
i do this because i love you.

a clean slate, with your own face on

i broke your favorite bowl into three identical pieces yesterday.
the flowers were already faded but when it broke they disappeared completely
wiped off the map of my existence, wiped your existence off my map--

x's leading to nowhere.
it was just a china white bowl, nothing special at all.
it had no memories of you, or us, or the kitchen cabinet,
or the one time i fed the dog out of it--

i'm sorry seeing it in pieces made you cry.
when i tried to glue it back together
i just ended up painting the flowers back on--

they were all the wrong colors.
orange instead of pink, green instead of blue.
you hate the color orange, and flowers aren't green, you said--

i guess there are a lot of reasons we broke up.
i guess i can't blame it all on a broken bowl and a dog with no table manners.
but i sure as hell have tried.