September 13, 2015

We'll See

A hair wrapped at my collar
warns me of rope
I pluck but I miss the root
Stunned and gagged
I'm so sorry I missed you.
I'm looking back at picture day
and thinking of the black teeth
"Primp and mutter something toothy," He says with a lisp.
Flash, you're it.
The camera looks so pretty.

Keep me Up.

My hand has red valleys.
The silver pleads guilty and slinks.
It's me.
The fan in the corner braids hair with it's fins.
The rib cage denies cancer.


There's an effort
while I pace these
yellow walls.
There's an ache when I tell
the snake:
"Hiss? I'm sorry, you can't
'really' fly."
I walk wooden floors
remembering when they made
my feet dance.
Kicking my soles until my
toes couldn't resist.
Happy days.
The bird in the
corner screeches
"I'm crooked! Where did
the star
by the window get off to?"
I say "Ask the Frog, he should be
King by now."

February 24, 2015

And So It Goes

In the morning I'm resurrected and religion cooks me breakfast. 
Hope lays out my clothes and forgiveness combs my hair. 
I am washed and placid.

A man I sometimes know hangs his head and we weep and often plead insanity. We seldom remember 11pm. 

When the blinds close and wet laundry slaps our faces we kiss and giggle. We won't be that way, he says. No, I shrug. 

We become laughter and strange voices and screen voyeurs. We are stationed in ritual. We walk an hour hand's precipice.
We nibble and dribble and our brains bubble up. We peak. 

Our needs divide. 

He: Time is of the essence. 
Me: I've only just begun. 
He: You must speed up.
Me: You must slow down. 
You: I'm doing this for slumber.
Me: I'm doing this for life.
You: You push.
Me: You hurt.
You: I'm leaving. 
Me: And I?
You: Profanity.
Me: Cries.

Bustle and mess and screams
The dried laundry meets the rug. We are in ruins. 

A man I couldn't know shakes his head. I cry as he curses me and dubs me crazy. It's now 11pm.

And we don't know.

At night I'm executed and hurt digs me a careless, lonely grave. 
Defeat pulls off my clothes and fear lets down my hair.
I am filth and I'm an earthquake.