Tag Archives: spoken word

beautiful creature [spoken word poetry]


(uhhh idfk but here’s an absolutely terrible first actual attempt at spoken word poetry bc my rationality is severely dysfunctional ooft. sorry if i sound very weird. and talk very bad. i’m not exactly radio voice material but i tried?? i sound so annoyingly manic here that’s because i am and no one’s probably gonna listen to this so what am i even making excuses up for. this is far from my usual content but 2020’s a year of trying dumb regrettable shit i guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)


beautiful creature

i am jealous of you,

beautiful, tiny, skinny creature.

beautiful, tiny, skinny, pretty

do you not know how it feels

to be so frustratingly jealous of you?

perhaps you do.

perhaps you wrap a ribbon around

your waist and your wrists and grab both ends and pull hard—

until your organs start to embrace each other

and the lack of blood makes your cheeks glow

beautiful, tiny, skinny creature

so pretty, perhaps each freckle on

your perfectly angled nose is mirrored

from every constellation in the sky

and your smile never grows crooked

because you practice in front of the mirror everyday,

lifting each corner delicately until the wind fixes it

into that permanent, enchanting look

beautiful, tiny, skinny creature

watch how they so adore you,

an undivided attention filled only with

wish-i-was and want-to-be’s and maybe-if-i…

but i will never be

you. beautiful, tiny, skinny creature

i pull at my ribbons until my veins start to show

but it snaps in half and flies back to my face; oh, my face,

whose spots reflect the craters in the dark side of the moon

and every time i try to smile, it’s a lunar eclipse

“witchcraft!” they call it

but which one am i?

beautiful, tiny, skinny creature

beautiful, tiny, skinny, pretty

our monsters are the same,

but why do yours look so

god damn beautiful?

when you speak, it hurts

and when i listen, it hurts even more

you can’t talk to yourself like that,

beautiful, tiny, skinny creature

there is someone out there who will

willingly ask for all your monsters

i’ll make them behave, i’ll take care of them, i promise

and you’ll still be beautiful

and tiny, and skinny, and pretty

and i’ll have more monsters

but i will still be

me.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Swallowing Diamonds: Does It Hurt?

Don’t even know if you left a note
Should we blame the Dekapote? Or vilify the Abilify?
You were trying to find your vanilla sky
Then you unravel, facedown on rock bottom
Fucking chewing gravel, because
A human’s so fragile, what can you do?

~*~

Got another issue

Pressing like a migraine

And all the healthy “bless you’s”

Can’t repair, can’t compare

To the amount of extraordinary pain

That’s felt with every angry stare

.

So I take a pistol that’s pink on one end

And swallow it whole ‘cause my life depends

On the gunpowder chemicals

Checking up on my broken physicals

Recycling my blood through and through

10 out of 10 doctors recommend that it’s true

.

They all thought I was blissful

‘Cause they never wanna hear about

The things that are fucking awful

Trained by clinical trials, trained by pharmaceuticals

So I’m still saying “I don’t need your help!”

As I choke on my fucking gavel

.

I’ve got a teaspoon of anxiety for my head

And a glass of borderline thoughts before I go to bed

As my body fights every request and rejects my skin

The strangers may praise me, but I will never win

Even if I had all the money in the world to sell out what I love

Would that change the happiness I lack in my blood?

.

‘Cause everyone’s a critic

And a cynic and they all “get it”

When they’re living in glowing cities

With their missus, acting clever

With their 9-5 IQ’s and 401k GPA endeavours

Feeling guilty their children didn’t get their Nerf Guns

.

But monsters don’t discriminate, it’s all fair game

No blame on no names, every label is the same

You could be sitting in gold and still don’t want to get old

You could be in a prison cell and don’t do what you’re told

Or you could be like me, contemplating a straitjacket tee

On my way out to an existence that doesn’t cope out too badly

.

So maybe there are issues that cannot be fixed with tissues

Or underhanded “you’re fine’s” or endless rounds of “bless you’s”

But it doesn’t hurt to compare and it doesn’t hurt to repair

The amount of extraordinary pain that no fake adrenaline stain

Nor serotonin on our hair, taken with a beggar’s angry stares

I’m only human like you and them after all, would it hurt me to care?

~*~

They press our teardrops into diamonds
They change our sorrows into gold
They’re gonna turn our blood to rubies
We just need someone we can hold…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

How To Say “Sorry”

There’s ten million ways to say an apology

But I could only count five stars blinking out on the palm of my hand

Whispering that this illusion’s grand, and I’m too infinitesimal to understand

How the world works and spins in its torque

How the skies are blue and why there’s rain in June

Why everyone lies and why people die

Why memories are memories, why angels don’t fly

Why chaos reigns in anarchy, and why you refused to say sorry

Even though I was bleeding out in front of you

And how the bruises are evidence for my allegations being true

But even without the vivid purple tattooed on my skin

I could still count every single sin

That you carved with a knife on the back of my heart

Saying you won’t end my life when you killed me with an art

Pressing down, feeling rife, tearing my veins apart

Will you still say this was simply for a restart?

For an iota of the darkest eyes you still call human

Face away from the tragedy and turn your soul to the sun

If those lips are crushed under the pressure of the truth

Fucking scream about everything, they won’t refuse if they knew

About the spinning planet, how they won’t understand it

About the blue skies and rainy day day lies

About death and regrets and how angels can fly

About memories being memories, and chaos made to create

And about how you refused to say sorry while you stood at hell’s gate

I’m at a loss for words, and everything escapes—

There’s ten million ways to say an apology

But I could only count one mouth moving soundlessly at the palm of my hands

Saying that my delusion’s grand, and I’m too foolish to understand

Against the stubbornness and the haze, that you were never one of the ways.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry