October 30, 2013 § Leave a comment

It curls up in a dusty corner of
Lines crossing like bars, cage
Crammed full of neglectful filth
Perfect visual feast of the vile
Useless wasted space inside
Its waning skin stretched tight
Overripe and vainly striving
To contain all that vitriolic flow
And it falls in on itself like a
Magic trick for a black theatre
Just the stage, silent, trivial
Just a rotten little disappointment
In a corner somewhere, showing
How desperately something
Can want to be nothing.

Nicole Best



October 28, 2013 § Leave a comment

What kind of a
Wishes they were more
More broken-pieced
More scar-laced
More bloodless and filled
Up with anger and horror and tears and sleepless nights and self-starving self-hating self-ending vivid blazing edge-charred vitriolic misery

What kind of a
Wishes they were less
Less strait-laced
Less seamlessly-perfect
Less normal and filled
Up with well-adjusted emotional adequacy and dull mediocrity and eight hours of sleep and a dim little spark of uniqueness well-hidden behind a white picket fence

What kind of a sick fuck-up?

Nicole Best


October 25, 2013 § 2 Comments

I’d like my whispers to trickle through the spaces in your mind
Words tumbling, flowing, liquid
Another way to pour myself into you

I think it might be cooler, there, in a softly-woven world not
Heatedly hating, disdaining, berating
Somehow I feel safe in your head.

Nicole Best

A Spring Poem

October 21, 2013 § Leave a comment

It isn’t just
Out there
I feel newness welling up inside
My throat
My organs blossom
Blood sings
Happiness, like spring sunshine, may soon rest here.

Nicole Best

Where Am I?

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