writing while drawing compilation

parrots not carrots
pencil thin
yes'm
god is subjective
why do your nipples taste like candy; why do your veins taste like licorice
cracked bloody lips facial wounds rips and tears. all they see is lower down
wendy elliott
pontoffol pock, where are you?
ode to the faeries of yesterday and the common garden sprite
wheels grinding day and night never knowing when the cause is right never sure if this is the right way to stay on track trying do hard not to stray
burnt paper wings and no limbs to crawl away with
one size fits all
pleasehelpme

Where do I write from?

I write from memories, from current emotions. I write under the table
and over my head. I hesitate because of what my sister said. I write
from deep down to just beneath the surface of my skin. I write from
happiness, from everything lodged inside. I write because of the way
you judge and the remarks you make. I write to keep myself from saying
all these things out loud. I write as a resource, a mechanism. A large
pool of hope and promise lies beyond every page, yet when I reach it
I've already been taken by sleep's gentle grasp. I write for freedom
and for organization, for regimen and for control. I write to
understand my appearance and why you can't. I write so that I no longer
stain paper with salt water. I write so that red may lose its shine and
so that I can be at peace again with lackluster flesh. I write when the
tablets have lost their effect and when the sun has just begun to rise.
I write when my ability not to has worn off, faded away.

incomplete

In the evening when my moms been drinking
Telling stories without thinking
She acts so immature
I have to leave and shut the door
Alone in my dark room
This place is becoming more like a womb
The blinds are pulled tight
I cant tell whether its day or night
The screen illuminates my facial features
I feel like some hideous creature

an old life

Sometimes I think I hurt more now than my body did during and after all those late night episodes in the backseat of your car. When you stopped asking it was almost shocking but I thought you would again. When you wouldn't reply I cried myself to sleep at night wondering how I could become so infatuated with such a conniving self-centered bastard. You make me sick with love, not necessarily lust, but also with disgust anger and pain.

secrets

All these secrets they drown me
Confound me
Surround me
I don't know what to do
What to say
How to act
I don't know what you know
What you hide behind my back

the confusion of clarity

all these feelings are overwhelming me
its as i was blind up until now
the vibrant greens; the blue and purple mist
how could i have missed this so many times before?
the contrast of the music thudding, pounding in my ears
and the metal between my lips, my lips;
my jaw clenching lightly
is nonexistant
is this sensation real?
how am i feeling this without the
help or assistance of things that have helped me before?
but now i awaken to reality
the screaming; terrible, angry, violent
it interrupts everything
by the time its ended im looking at flat scenery
not incredible like before;
not breathtaking like before.


i feel crazy; i feel like a crazy person. i cant untangle how i feel right now. her voice is whiny; it annoys me. this beauty surrounds me; its so clear. the clarity is unreal. im at a loss; a loss for what? im trying to find the exit to this maze; whats happening to me? this music, these sounds. lyrics, trees, nostalgia. i cant make sense of this. tires squeel. my spelling is off. thudding thudding. its caving in on me. i cant hear you i cant hear you i cant hear you. is this my life? where are they? the clouds arent real. they couldnt be. how could any of this? where why how who when. giant crosses in the sky. this is all so incomplete. whats eminem saying? i cant get this feeling back im scratching reaching climbing where is it going i need it back its flying soaring away come back come back! please i need you. now we're gliding back to the mainstream; the mainstreets. is this the same feeling or an impersonation? i cant find words i cant find my voice i cant i cant i cant i cant I CANT and now you're yelling so loud. the batterys dying dying dead dead DEAD. number on trees. numbers on these. my body is stiff; sore. overusing words. numbing, aching, throbbing. im overdressed; underdressed. is this what you expected?

Like dragons

Building stands tall, red metal monster, waiting
columns on either side of the glass, like dragons.

A sign says 'restrooms' herds you. The low ceiling,
the short maze of shiny black stalls. Leave the

almost burned-out fluorescent of/from the mirror
and begin a new escapade. Stifle your giggles

as you enter, its curved corridor a colorful mural.
Take a seat on the miniature sofa, uncomfortable

and foreign, it refuses to envelop. In front of you
the short table and chairs. The microscopic holes

in the tiles, like pinpricks made by a thousand tiny
hands. The fire extinguishers protrude, upside-down,

peeking out from their burrows. Outside the police and
the homeless, the sounds disappear as you drift. A

strip of metal runs beside evenly spaced trees and
mailboxes. Grates behind a giant rusted vent, leaves

caught in between like letters never sent. Seven
cement apostrophes lined up to grammar your eyes,

disrupt your line of vision. Arches overlap one
another, a sea of concrete and pink paint.