miyako73
02-06-2014, 05:03 AM
If you have eyes,
You will also see
This vast silence.
You bleed in red,
You mourn in black,
What about in blue?
I know it is cold;
My warm fingers
Are cuddling you.
In my moving hand,
Are you dancing
Or silently crying?
You exist to write,
To trace and draw,
But also to stain.
I wet your butt
And nibble on it;
Am I that kinky?
No poem tonight,
My pen is stingy
With deep words.
When out of ink,
Do you feel empty
Or totally useless?
You write poems
And lots of stories,
But no pen name.
If I lose your cap,
Will you be mad
Or forsakenly sad?
When a plagiarist
Uses you to steal,
Write “Fvck You!”
If I throw you away
Is it ungratefulness
Or setting you free?
When I push you
To do "red roses",
Please write "cliche".
You cry black ink,
Paper is your tissue;
Where is your snot?
Whoever invented you,
He forgot a grammar
And spelling checker.
Will you not feel bad
Or cheap if I use this
Montblanc resin pen?
When my hand is lazy,
Nudge my two fingers
To write "Go to bed".
Which do you want:
Neck strap or holder
For your next rebirth?
You can keep secrets-
Write two love letters;
Oh, nope, write three.
If you have a heart,
Will it sadden you
To write my poems?
When I stick you
In my dirty nose,
I give you a break.
If you were human
And I were a pen,
Would you abuse me?
If only you could feel,
You would know anxiety
From my shaking hand.
If you could speak
Would you complain
Or say, "You do it"?
I have to trash you;
The crumpled paper,
In the can, is lonely.
With erotic poems,
Are you still crying,
Or is it ejaculation?
You do write words;
Understand "fatigue",
Do know "boredom".
Which is lonelier:
A bare white paper
Or an empty pen?
Do not be jealous-
They are not pens;
They are cigarettes.
You no longer write;
Are you really sure
You can stab and kill?
Miyako
(c) 2/6/2014
You will also see
This vast silence.
You bleed in red,
You mourn in black,
What about in blue?
I know it is cold;
My warm fingers
Are cuddling you.
In my moving hand,
Are you dancing
Or silently crying?
You exist to write,
To trace and draw,
But also to stain.
I wet your butt
And nibble on it;
Am I that kinky?
No poem tonight,
My pen is stingy
With deep words.
When out of ink,
Do you feel empty
Or totally useless?
You write poems
And lots of stories,
But no pen name.
If I lose your cap,
Will you be mad
Or forsakenly sad?
When a plagiarist
Uses you to steal,
Write “Fvck You!”
If I throw you away
Is it ungratefulness
Or setting you free?
When I push you
To do "red roses",
Please write "cliche".
You cry black ink,
Paper is your tissue;
Where is your snot?
Whoever invented you,
He forgot a grammar
And spelling checker.
Will you not feel bad
Or cheap if I use this
Montblanc resin pen?
When my hand is lazy,
Nudge my two fingers
To write "Go to bed".
Which do you want:
Neck strap or holder
For your next rebirth?
You can keep secrets-
Write two love letters;
Oh, nope, write three.
If you have a heart,
Will it sadden you
To write my poems?
When I stick you
In my dirty nose,
I give you a break.
If you were human
And I were a pen,
Would you abuse me?
If only you could feel,
You would know anxiety
From my shaking hand.
If you could speak
Would you complain
Or say, "You do it"?
I have to trash you;
The crumpled paper,
In the can, is lonely.
With erotic poems,
Are you still crying,
Or is it ejaculation?
You do write words;
Understand "fatigue",
Do know "boredom".
Which is lonelier:
A bare white paper
Or an empty pen?
Do not be jealous-
They are not pens;
They are cigarettes.
You no longer write;
Are you really sure
You can stab and kill?
Miyako
(c) 2/6/2014