--I drove with my head out the window,
breathing in the imperfections of a damp summer night and iced tea spilling over just washed mini skirts.
The baby shower invitations poured down the chimney;;
and I laid my head beneath my mosquito-bite-ridden arms and tried to deny the fact that the world was changing.
The stars hung in the fields, grasping the stringy brown grass in their light and burning holes in the tree trunks.
Scratched cd's making skipping music tracks against an empty sky,
and I waited for while you were denying me to her.
Wind tunnels crashing over my hair, laying on a couch and watching the tv screen play shadows of light on the door;;
Puppet fingers on my thighs and peek-a-boo's tickling hips.
I felt the eyes of every Catholic on me, shunning my existence and suffocating me in wordless blows.
Awkward medical discoveries and mud football full of insecurities,
Cookie dough crusted on sticky finger tip faces,
placing flour on your eyelids and pouting because the red lollipop came off when you licked your lips and tried to look sexy.
("And baby, what's a synonym for 'I fucking need you'?")
You took it back again, coffee stained teeth and a cigarette tongue,
you traded them all for five year old heels and a pick up truck,
tried to be a woman by carving your name in his front steps and calling him to see if he was 'okay';
When really he was in the back yard, screwing your best friend and ignoring your voice mails.
[I thought summer time was when you denied yourself,
and took hold of who you wanted to be?]
I splashed down hard into waterfalls, tripping over round rocks and toenails painted black for momentum.
Flip flops floating downstream and slip-sliding off the backs of minnows.
I screened my text messages, scratching away with the volume on the car stereo turned up to bleed your ear drums.>>
You told me I could've never had it better;;
and I whispered that I already did.
"For you, the daisies hang their heads and die."--
Author notes
["Look! I'm a pretty fucking princess."]
Done?
Yes, no, maybe so?
I'm sick of poetry that I can't write,
and words that have been all used up.
I miss when everything was fresh and new,
and people would write from their heart,
and not just their fingers.
In a list
comatosecomatosecomatosecomatose
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
-
I noticed two spelling errors. “layed” should be “laid” and “insequrities” should be “insecurities”. This is really packed full of good lines. On the verge of being prose And yet, not. Because your writing is always written in a very free style, I must remember that some of the things that would normally bother me about poetry, I must keep to myself. Your work really plays off language and how words smooth off into the next. Which is lovely, by the way. I mean obviously there are parts where the lines could be shorter but what difference would that do? Besides take something away from your poetry. I’m just thinking out loud, so don’t mind me.
A lot of this hit me girl, in a very personal place.
Quite extraordinary how your poetry skips
and becomes alive.
;
-
i totally agree with your notes.
and your words are powerful..
peace.
-
--I drove with my head out the window,
breathing in the imperfections of a damp summer night and iced tea spilling over just washed mini skirts.
The baby shower invitations poured down the chimmney;;
and I layed my head beneath my mosquito-bite-ridden arms and tried to deny the fact that the world was changing.
The stars hung in the fields, grasping the stringy brown grass in their light and burning holes in the tree trunks.
Scratched cd's making skipping music tracks against an empty sky,
and I waited for while you were denying me to her.
Wind tunnels crashing over my hair, laying on a couch and watching the tv screen play shadows of light on the door;;
Puppet fingers on my thighs and peek-a-boo's tickling hips.
I felt the eyes of every Catholic on me, shunning my existence and suffocating me in wordless blows.
OoO I love this! That's all I can say!
<3
-
The last line really adds a punch. Sounds so brutally honest and the voice just seems so angry and hopeless that the others in their life will just never come to the realization of anything. Stupid changing world - I hate it.
"[I thought summer time was when you denied yourself,
and took hold of who you wanted to be?]"
--any time is a good time to hide who you are. Nobody likes me for who I am but I fucking be who I am anyway but I like to piss people off so that's probably why. Hah.
"I splashed down hard into waterfalls, tripping over round rocks and toenails painted black for momentum.
Flip flops floating downstream and slip-sliding off the backs of minnows"
--I can really feel this because I can put myself there. You know I was just at a waterfall on Saturday so I can just remember it with this. Sometimes I wanted to let go too. To watch a piece of me float down the creek. And then wonder who would stumble upon it and what they would make of me from just a simple item.
Well I ramble on. I enjoyed reading this.
-
wish i wrote it
Like the prosaic style, full with wonderful, at your face images, very emotive and raw, laughing out loud sharing your misery or joy? regardless of which I totally enjoy every bit of it
-
I loved everything you used in here to describe how you felt, like a whole bunch of memories. I loved the "scratched cd's making sipping music tracks..." that was beautiful. This is a really intense poem and I enjoyed reading it a lot, thank you for sharing
-
oops I accidently clicked on the thing...
ahh well, I found the long sentences a little difficult to read at the start but the flow got better towards the end and I like the way you ended your piece. -
that was like an explosion of imagery.
shit..
im so dumbfounded.
and i know how you feel about missing when everything was new... i hate that i cant seem to write much of anything new latley.
but whoa hunnie.. you did OOOOH so fuckin aweosome one this i mean fuck these lines are eternal:
"Puppet fingers on my thighs and peek-a-boo's tickling hips.
&
I splashed down hard into waterfalls, tripping over round rocks and toenails painted black for momentum.
Flip flops floating downstream and slip-sliding off the backs of minnows.
&
Wind tunnels crashing over my hair, laying on a couch and watching the tv screen play shadows of light on the door;;"
just to name a few of so many great ones! gosh.. darlin' this was greatness in a bottle and im getting drunk off it.
keep writing love.. even if it seems like there's nothing else to write about.. you shouldnt stop you have too much talent.
♥
Adding your comment:
1 - 8 of 8
