Zenfolio | Misty Blankenship | Poetry

3:27 AM - Sometime in 2006
They rarely have titles, that only restricts them.

Words spoken
are suppose to be
tangible items.
Something of substance
to hold in your hands-
to explore with touch.
Where as everything else
lacks significance.

I used to have faith
in those words,
like a religion. And the bodies
that spoke them were my
Until I realized how trivial
they've become.

And I fear I will
become trivial as well
with the words from
my lips.
Therefore I speak so little.



Shed me
& my skin
my sins
my failed attempts
Feel me
reveal me
layers of myself
Worthy of itself
to you
to me


1:37 AM

safe here

I am safe here
when I have
next to me


4:12 AM 12.14.2006

Do you still think I'm beautiful ?
Ghostly, like an angel.
I've become translucent.
The hollowness has been replaced.
A cold void.
I am free
free from myself...
do you still think I'm beautiful ?
I can slip in between the words
of what you can not say.
Press myself to your memories,
then detach itself onto its own.
& I'm beautiful there,
don't you agree ?

Do you still think I am ?


2:13 PM - 08.04.2006 LiveJournal entries

I took pictures
of the sunset today,
for you.
Far away from me
I thought you'd like to
a piece of home. To carry
with you. A photograph to bring
a smile to your face,
And I thought of the day I
get to hold your hand,
like you said you wanted
more than anything. I
believed you, you know.
Me, who can not be fooled
by anyone,
and you who
is seduced by the slightest



This thick silence
pushes itself
into my ears
swallowing me whole

swallow me cold, and alone. I can not breathe.
I am buried
dig me out, rescue me.

October 2005

I'm lost to tell you
how much your words move me,
how they linger like a silhouette.
Like a conspiracy.

You lay beside me there,
that night, by the lake
(only it was an ocean to me.)
And I couldn't tell
if it was the humidity
or the words you spoke that trickled
down my spine.

We fell asleep to the sounds of tiny tides.
To tiny restless heartbeats,
to the passion of all that
wasn't spoken in between.
You wrapped yourself around me
as to be holding on for dear life.

And I lay there, lost,
searching for the things to say
about how your words linger

like a conspiracy.

1:07 AM 06.18.2005

I take pictures of your
They fascinate me
because they are
worn and rugged.
They look like
how my heart feels.
You say you relate to me,
and I can't help but wonder
is that why ?

9:04 PM 03.07.2003

It's quiet now
and all I hear
faintly is myself
thinking of you,
and all of who
you are. You
sit calmly but
I hear your body
speaking in ways
that aren't...


10.37PM 05.29.2006

You follow me down
follow me through
& I lead you
with concrete hands & fantasies
without repercussions.
You breathe me
then blow me through your lips like fire.
I am your desire-
a less ordinary struggle
to which you'd like to become.

6:27 PM 05.16.2006

The air drips heavy like thick curtains
The humming of the air passes
so casually over my ears
This strangeness stings my skin, through my bones
until I've become numb to pain
But here we are again
You lie next to me like an uncertain parallel existence,
crossed over to my continent
of uninterrupted energy
There you flow, breaking the thin barrier of resistance
of which we've found ourselves enlightened by


9:03 PM 02.23.2006

Bringing you myself
wrapped in a careful innocence,
layered under thorns-
unfold me.
Peel back those delicate pieces
of my being.
You'll find under all of that
barbed wire
lies something desirable.


10:36 02.17.2006

We dribbled
& dabbled
empty promises.
Empty tasteless words
in each others ears.
& there they stuck,
like grease-
a thick unhealthy coating
that clogs our veins.
You didn't care that I adored you,
& I knew eventually
I'd find someone else
to pick your pieces
out of my teeth.


11:37 AM 10.02.2005

Illuminating yourself
under my fingernails
I want to dig you out
like dirt
Pick out the pebbles
Sift you
Pack you firmly & maybe
make you into a castle
& I will be the princess whom resides


5:02 AM

my mind is medicated, with thoughts
of you, and how you ease this.
how you
mentally make love to me
even when you're not
in the room.
when you're miles away.
i wait for that burning excitement,
when i wait for this.
for you.



i let
quick as
September said
we've become
we provide.

i let
frail, but i



Oblique we are

It's never the right time
to tell you.
All that I have to open myself up for, all I have to give.
But instead we play quietly with idle bodies in idle moments.
For some sort of comfort, I suppose.
Facilitating. Only there is no progress. There is no objective.

All that I want to hand to you
I disguise with casual indifference.
And I wonder
If you even notice.
I hate you. But you're lucky I like you.


2:36 PM - 14 April

No matter what I write here, you'll think it's about you. And no matter how many times I write those long paragraphs and then delete them, it's still difficult for me put what I feel into words.
Because what I feel can't quite be put into words itself, but spoken more like with sign language. Only you don't understand sign language, so you can't understand what it is my hands are trying to tell you.


2:44 PM - Setting Sun

her setting sun. declining outside
of window panes. beyond streetlights and tucks
itself neatly and quite subtly
behind trees. her setting sun, sets and dissipates.
goodbyes and hollow misconceptions.
departed and elapsed, shifted
itself to darkness. to find her own way
blindly. until, again,
the day's are anew, from the nights that follow
her setting sun




I look at photographs that I've taken and altered.
I've created places that do not exist.
I live in a world that is not real and it is only when I'm sleeping
that I am reality. But only because it's then, that I'm dead. I have no relevance.
I am at rest. When the truth is handed to me, I do not acknowledge it.
It is only later when the bleakness of its absence unnerves me. It is then when I am reminded, and
then when I'm overwhelmed by its existence.
And there I am at this vulnerable moment, when it slaps me in the face.
There is a narrator inside of my head that paraphrases my collected thoughts.
Throughout the day I'm flooded with words and emotions that spread themselves thick
across my brain.
I'm consumed with reservations and hesitations and assumptions. With remorse and regret and gratifications.
With indecisive conclusions.
These emotions and thoughts that filter through grey matter.
I hide them. I create them, and then hide them.
So they do not exist.
I live in this world that is not real.




1:09 AM - 5.30

I just want
a tiny, microscopic glimpse
into my future.
the happy stuff. so I’ll know,
that this would all be
worth it
in the end.