And so you tap your chisled-tipped words on chalkboard like a metronome mouth piece. I time the words of betrayal. Right on time.
Tag: words
Narcissus
I saw you crying once.
Outside of the bedroom late at night.
We had washed up after a party and dragged in the same old, bitter fight.
Who was I to you? Why couldn’t you show?
So here we are:
You on the livingroom floor.
Me, peering through a crack in the bedroom I wished wasn’t ours. A hallway of mirrors fall between us and we cannot reach each other through our own reflection.
We would only see ourselves.
Mystic Murmurs
Fickle fears on your ear drum
Reappear with the shore
Unmistakably echoing in your head
From the last time you placed the shell
On your temple
And begged to be answered.
Legacy
And in the end,
Just to spite them all,
I will burn my diaries.
Missing Man
There is a peace missing. A peace you filled many lifetimes ago and cannot be reached without knowing where you are. When I think of you, I am reminded of the nights we laughed in the bed of my dad’s truck; picked stars to call ours and screamed back at lightning in the rain. We would giggle about poetry we wrote in notes and picture frames we once made. I remember the first time we had our first time. The blanket wrapped barely around our hips. A motion so slow, yet so quick.
And I remember the first time you had a hit. Blunt to your lips, red eyes and long rips.Too many pills came next. A needle and that blue shit. White powder lines, who’s next? You got in the game real quick. Thought I was stubborn and your friends needed you more. They called me cunt, slut, and whore. You were wrapped up in the game that played you harder than them all. The best way to explain is that we still cannot find your soul. You’re out hustling the streets without a way to retreat. Those withdraws have a way of working the weakest into the wall. A build-up, a quick draw, a small hit, a large fall.
My stomach stretches stress the size of a cigarette burn. The hole you left when you never returned. I know the world can be harsh! I too cannot face people most days! But I’d never hurt them without the knowledge of my stay. I’ve hurt them enough with knowledge of my ways. So if you can hear this, know I search for you in the parking lots, parks, and gas stations of our town. Any spare change or a blanket given is on your behalf. I have dreams of finding you and being the heroine of my past. I also have dreams you’ll leave for the heroin – surely your last.
An Ode to the Desert Car
You seem bent and out of shape. Your music vibrates a low-fi hum with grinds of shifting gears. I adored you. The way you provided protection and direction. An escape and a sanctuary. How many adventures have we reached? Missed appointments and bare feet. A clutter of life thrown in the backseat. How many hot days have you protected me, thrown the seat back and let me sleep. Been the lifeline of long distance lust and getaway from those I could not trust. Oh, dear car of fabric, plastic and metal, I wished you were here to be my hero.
The Woman in My Body
There is a woman in my body ashamed of all the men
who wants to rinse her skin clean and her uterus from within.
She wants to scrape the cells from the walls and burn it in a sage.
And light a fire within her soul to settle all the rage.
A cleansing of her body – that would do the trick
Fix her right up from her skin to her future kin.
She wants to tell her younger self to respect body and time.
She wants to tell her younger self to be nicer to all kinds.
There is a woman in my body itches to come out.
She doesn’t like the dance anymore and the music’s all played out.
There are no more drums in her circle and the candles all burned out
so don’t pray for her with all your little doubt.
There is a woman in my body she loves the way she feels;
her curves along her waist her thighs her pelvis and her heels.
She could moan for hours if she did it all alone
She knows her spots, her points, her pulls with every angle and every groan.
This woman in her body, she wants to break out
She wants to feel again without a male weighing her down.
I Need You Here
There are times
I hold the thought of you so close
I can almost hear you whisper in my ear,
“I need you here.”
Desert Words
Deserted in the desert of your dry tongue and useless words.
Salvation by slain be his name.
Return to your world of glory.
Slather it with paint and call it art; defaced.
Kick rocks until it’s a mountain
Climb it and praise your good God’s name
And sacrifice my body in your place.
The Game, Undressed
Ripped from the waist, tossed in a corner.
clothes are useless in this game.
And we play.
It is a feast of flesh and she is famished.
She roars and rolls around the covers and in between their legs.
It is a play and we are star performers at what we do best
We love and we feel and we breathe as one tonight.
but this full feeling will not last long
We will crave more.
We will crave less.
This game, undressed.
The Culture of Water 