Joined August 2012 and calls http://www.caprichor.tumblr.com home.

9 stories, 0 challenges, 6 comments, and 4 friends

Sapriosexual. Places too many expectations on people. Easily disarmed by a charming smile. Has a soft spot for coffee, a hand on his shoulder, and a “it’ll be okay,” in his ear. Isn’t as broken as he seems, he just uses poetry as a coping mechanism.


  1. You must understand something about poets.

    They love in this way that’s so perfect, but do not love you for who you are. They love you for what poems you can inspire. Hence, we will take each subtle thing you do as a nuance of love. We will romanticize our lover. We will build them up to be ...

  2. the loser takes another shot.

    he walked into the room with the american accent, and the baritone voice and the very vocal intent of getting drunk and you sit there, in the kitchen, while he pours himself a drink and you ask him about where he is from. - you kiss him next to his lip...

  3. cancerstick

    (to the smokers in my life; veckesh, dyan, boey, and my grandfather who had died of it.) - a love poem is meant to be inhaled until your lungs blossom as if you were taking a pull from a cigarette and exhaling an afterglow because the perishers had li...

  4. see a little silhouetto of a man

    it took awhile for me to remember that this is you, baby but it’s not my fault i swear it’s just there were light leaks and the entire thing was too dark and all i can see is the silhouette of a face (yours or mine?) and all i can see is us leanin...

  5. very crude slam poetry (Mature)

  6. please don't leave me.

    “Please don’t leave,” she tells him. His lips don’t part, even for a breath. He packs his clothes, clumsily folding his shirts and tossing them in his suitcase. His pants are rolled up and shoved inside, the entire sock drawer j...

  7. bulgarian yoghurt.

    i once met a bulgarian in the heartland of singapore we talked, walked around a substandard mall his accent thick like the calluses on his fingers he told me how he was a piano teacher was a photographer, and he was so happy he got to do what he loved ...

  8. con cave

    i knew a boy with a dent in his chest. genetic defect, he told me. his father had it too. he was lying on his sofa, his head in my lap. had my hand against his bare chest, fingers tracing the circumference of it. let my fingers slide into the cavern an...

  9. ö

    someone listens to him say “i am lonely and no one listens.” - i once met an artist and when we spoke it sounded like two violins resonating the sound of the other he could have drawn me with scars like graphite chips and dust smudges from ...

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