the crowd is gathered in their black ties and skirts
and i am becoming one with this cloudy grave yard
and that kiss of yours that always said, "there's gonna be a hanging"
and i can't help but miss the grasp on my throat,
the glazed dots in the darkness of the staring -
anything to tint these windows with our breath
once more before i continue rolling with these
unnecessary punches, and settling for the polaroids
and post cards that puncture like a bayonet -
my heart that just needs to bleed itself clean
so that i can pull that fucking pistol again
like i used too...
In a list
A contest entry
- for my favorites... by Miss Faith.
1200 points, ended December 22, 2008, 7 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
break out the shotguns, we're riding to town...
Comments
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hey you. i love that you're still writing and that every time i see something new of yours, it inspires me to try and write again as well.
my favourite part of this is "the polaroids
and post cards that puncture like a bayonet " - wonderful imagery. the whole thing has this undercurrent of frustration and anger bubbling up as if it would explode at any second.
mm, i love it.
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fuck.
your so damn good.
"and i am becoming one with this cloudy grave yard
and that kiss of yours that always said, "there's gonna be a hanging"
...
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