nobody can save you but
yourself.
you will be put again and again
into nearly impossible
situations.
they will attempt again and again
through subterfuge, guise and
force
to make you submit, quit and/or die quietly
inside.nobody can save you but
yourself
and it will be easy enough to fail
so very easily
but don’t, don’t, don’t.
just watch them.
listen to them.
do you want to be like that?
a faceless, mindless, heartless
being?
do you want to experience
death before death?nobody can save you but
yourself
and you’re worth saving.
it’s a war not easily won
but if anything is worth winning then
this is it.think about it.
think about saving your self.
Summer Skin // Death Cab For Cutie
And I knew your heart I couldn’t win,
Cause the season’s change was a conduit,
And we’d left our love in our summer skin.
I crave physical affection. I crave skin on skin. play with my hair, hold my hand, touch me, kiss me. I crave you.
Darkness lined her soul, marked on her skin and settled in her eyes. That’s why her soul is shady and her skin is scarred, that’s why she sees nothing but dark blue.
But when it came right down to it, the skin of my wrist looked so white and defensless that I couldn’t do it. It was as if what I wanted to kill wasn’t in that skin or the thin blue pulse that jumped under my thumb, but somewhere else, deeper, more secret, and a whole lot harder to get.
Get naked with me
I don’t mean
Strip your clothes off
And touch skin to skin
My rough fingertips
On your porcelain
Get naked with me
I don’t mean
Flesh shown to the world
Eyes devouring you
Before we find the bed
Just to screw
Get naked with me
I mean lay your soul
On the table in front of me
Spill your heart into my hands
Be truly naked
Let our souls dance
Get naked with me
I mean let me in
Deeper inside than anyone
Has ever been before
Show me yourself
Truth I can’t ignore
Get naked with me
And I’ll do the same
I’ll return the trust
There’s so much to gain
Naked or bust
Is the name of the game
Get naked with me
-Get naked with me- © Michael Greywood Poetry-2015Ooooh yes this is amazing
Am I looking for love? I suppose I am.
But let me explain what I mean
I’m seeking a friend, a companion
From here to the end, and after
Laughter, a tug on my sleeve
A voice, softly whispering
“Wake up, you need to see the stars!”
A smile across the table, steaming coffee
As the sun rises in the distance
Skin on skin, my best friend
Riding shotgun next to me; we’re free
Are we a couple? I’d never wonder
Because all that matters
Is that we love each other
Am I looking for love? I suppose I am
But what’s more important to me
Is meeting an adventuring companion
Finding my best friend, anam cara
A soul with rough edges; like my own
Love that burns with passion
And is cooled by the rain
As we dance naked on the mountainside
No one around for miles
To hear passionate cries
As we set like the sun, rise like the moon
Am I looking for love? I suppose I am
But I have to explain what that means
Someone on whom I can depend
A lover, when need be, but a friend always
A silhouette in my photographs
Sunlight beaming off her edges
Someone who smiles at me
And laughs at me too
Am I looking for love? Will I find it in you?
© Michael Greywood Poetry-2016
Fucking shit Michael. Killing it lately. 😍
The skin she wears may be made of calm, but her bones are made of chaos.
Listening to a song on dark drifts over the river
knowing there is no difference, your hand
asleep on my side, whether you were thinking
of essential salts or atomic numbers or the secret
effects of moonlight: it was the same love,
radiant with memory, simple as skin.
— Anne Michaels, from “The Second Search,” Skin Divers
These words create a beautiful image
“you cup your hands and petals fold and hold water, the creases in skin mimic red canyons forgotten by misplaced tourists content to view the world with slack mouths and lazy clothes. the magic in flowers is not enough to cure your fatigue. lines under your eyes swallow you. a part of me is plucked, bashing chords as ego filler. i displace psychology. i miscount change. the ribbon you nailed to my wall hangs there waiting for a breeze. i will keep the windows closed. dust will gather at the apex. it will. it will. i will swear and move beyond yes and no. i think about the dip at the top of your lips. god damn it.”
— Stimie (via howitzerliterarysociety)
sevdaah