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fall behind me






this city spouted
up from my mother's fears
and I know them
while she pours
some merlot in
a coffee mug and
I the boy across
the street
tells me
that red
is only a
favourite colour
for boys.


and the tree
next to the
smoking grounds
is wired around my
head.
and the girl next to me
forgot her umbrella
and she is too
wet to get up
and walk back to
her ghetto home
with a broken neck
and reeking of
my breath
and her guilt
and my winter
arms embracing
the nakedness
of the
trees
with her scent
on their breath
rotting and foul
but,
hers nonetheless.

she has a habit
of taking me
to my favourite
gazebo
but,
today she
slumped off
and blew away
with the
ugly brown leaves
left on that
wannabe
apple tree.




the men that sit
there on days she isn't
tell me that
I have

time to grow
into myself

but I can't
because I
don't remember
the last time
that someone heard me
the way you wanted to be;
my words

lose their grip,
and roll from my lips to be
replaced with
your high ranting.

lonely in a crowded room,
lonely when you laugh,
lonely when you cry,
lonely when you







don't want your soul
in your breast pocket.





















Author notes

I live in some crappy neighbourhood outside of Chicago.
pretty lonely out here, homes.

A contest entry

yourhandsyourhands--

    : , Your review:

    Comment Suggestion: What is your your first impression?
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    : no Cost: 0 free left 0 points, You have (?)

Comments

1 - 11 of 11

  • new born
    November 11
    Edit | Reply
    Gotta agree with Caitlin. This is amazing.


  • Candy Morphine
    November 4

    Edit | Reply
    this is insannnneee.

    you win this contest.
    you words.

    you just freaking win life.


  • xmiasmatik
    November 3
    Edit | Reply
    wow. lovely. (:


  • tuesdae
    November 3

    Edit | Reply
    amazing.
    i'm kind of afriad to enter this now, because of all these kickass entries.

  • soundwave -
    November 3
    Edit | Reply
    fuckkkkkkkkkkk you amaze me so much.

    with a broken neck
    and reeking of
    my breath
    and her guilt
    and my winter
    arms embracing
    the nakedness
    of the
    trees
    with her scent
    on their breath
    rotting and foul
    but,
    hers nonetheless.

    ^yeah. loved all that. and the rest of this.
    this=art. you=artist.

1 - 11 of 11