A self-destructive
addict
sits
smacking the veins in her heart –
and mind –
pumping
poison?
in her blood:
potions mixed with
stale novels,
fast music,
faster cars,
and petty acquaintances –
a leather-bound Bible at her feet
next to last week’s
Oedipus Rex
and a yellow-paged journal
filled with quests for an
undesired
truth.
A box of pens is
bleeding ink
in her broken dresser drawer
and she’ll never have the time to
fix
the hinges
or clean up the mass of
wasted
ideas
staining her socks.
I see
wadded up tissues
and unused
tubes of lipstick,
a permafrosted curling iron
and a rusty mirror –
the shadows of a girl
who used to care
but now
it’s not worth the effort.
A collage of memories
lies
stagnant
and stinking
showing rotting pictures of memories
mostly forgotten…
maybe better off forgotten…
Old text books never read
and dog-eared copies of fashion magazines
litter a shelf once used for
CDs…
Her mom’s old army jackets
hang
on the door frame
but the captain’s bars are
missing…
Mascara-tarnished
Q-tips
cover the bottom of a greasy trashcan
and there are
tiny bits of
fuzz
all over the carpet…
An overflowing hamper
looms angry in the closet
and the bedside lamp
needs a light bulb…
Amongst the posters of
fantasy heroes
and punk-rock idols,
the glowing yellow walls
and her favorite movie
playing quietly on her laptop…
amidst all these
comforts,
her big feather blanket
and soft kitty-bear,
the glittering ring on her finger
and the prospect of
kissing him
tomorrow…
the one thing that keeps coming back to
haunt her…
is how this place used to feel like home.
addict
sits
smacking the veins in her heart –
and mind –
pumping
poison?
in her blood:
potions mixed with
stale novels,
fast music,
faster cars,
and petty acquaintances –
a leather-bound Bible at her feet
next to last week’s
Oedipus Rex
and a yellow-paged journal
filled with quests for an
undesired
truth.
A box of pens is
bleeding ink
in her broken dresser drawer
and she’ll never have the time to
fix
the hinges
or clean up the mass of
wasted
ideas
staining her socks.
I see
wadded up tissues
and unused
tubes of lipstick,
a permafrosted curling iron
and a rusty mirror –
the shadows of a girl
who used to care
but now
it’s not worth the effort.
A collage of memories
lies
stagnant
and stinking
showing rotting pictures of memories
mostly forgotten…
maybe better off forgotten…
Old text books never read
and dog-eared copies of fashion magazines
litter a shelf once used for
CDs…
Her mom’s old army jackets
hang
on the door frame
but the captain’s bars are
missing…
Mascara-tarnished
Q-tips
cover the bottom of a greasy trashcan
and there are
tiny bits of
fuzz
all over the carpet…
An overflowing hamper
looms angry in the closet
and the bedside lamp
needs a light bulb…
Amongst the posters of
fantasy heroes
and punk-rock idols,
the glowing yellow walls
and her favorite movie
playing quietly on her laptop…
amidst all these
comforts,
her big feather blanket
and soft kitty-bear,
the glittering ring on her finger
and the prospect of
kissing him
tomorrow…
the one thing that keeps coming back to
haunt her…
is how this place used to feel like home.
Author notes
I'm sure every teenager has felt this way at some point in time...but this is the first piece of...ANYTHING I have written for a long long time.
I hope the imagery is to your liking. I'm a huge fan of contemporary stuff. I'm still practicing to get my own writing style down pat, but at this point in time, I think this is the best example of my world, and especially of how I write.
A contest entry
- i smoke and i drink and every time i think i have a tiny dream by Confetti Fairy-x.
800 points, ended April 22, 2008, 8 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Prewrites. by She Stole My Voice.
300 points, ended September 21, 2008, 57 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
"smacking the veins in her heart – "
&
"bleeding ink
in her broken dresser drawer
and she’ll never have the time to
fix
the hinges
or clean up the mass of
wasted
ideas
staining her socks."
Are my favorite parts.
This is a really well written piece.
I really like it :]
Thank you so much for entering and good luck ♥
-rainbow. -
i feel like i know you, like we've lived the same life- but separately. this poem resonates with me. your imagery is magnificent, your descriptions seem obvious. as if we all look at these objects in the way you described them, but we were just never able to put it into words. does that make sense?? it's meant as a compliment, haha. anyway, i absolutely adored this poem. it was beyond fantastic. i understand not being able to write- have felt the same way for months. i hope you've been able to get past it. :]


-
This is a bit longer than I usually care for, but I found myself speeding right through it for the next thought. I especially like the 'angry hamper' (don't they seem accusatory sometimes?) and 'permafrosted curling iron', lolol. I doubt many guys will get this
This is contemporary and INTENSE! Best wishes.
-
i like the format, i think it adds to the flow of the poem, makes it disjointed and confused. i liked the ? after "poison" as if you are questioning whether it is really damaging or beneficial in some ways.
Some of the imagery i loved in this poem:
"stale novels" "permafrosted curling iron" "a collage of memories/ lies/ stagnant / and stinking"
i adored the ending "how this place used to feel like home"
it summed up the poem perfectly, looking around, seeing familiar things but not feeling familiar.
a few of the images were a bit cliche, "dusty mirror" "blackness" etc, but mostly i thought this was extremely creative and lovely
thankyoo for entering
love Con xxx




