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Literature Text
things she's destroyed this year;
two washing machines
from the pockets she fills with rocks
when the rains come and she wants to drown
the corners of all her books from flicking
bending and shaking edges
whenever she thinks of you
you stupid boy
her first car
crumpled in a ravine
and it left a scar on her stomach
that she sometimes can poke
and feel a lump that science can't explain
and she thinks it physical sadness
resting
waiting
the entire box of plates
that her mother gave her for moving out
and making it on her own
well, she almost made it
but something about them
being under the ground left
her shaking uncontrollably
and the tears slid underneath fingertips
and she lost the grip
and didn't notice until she'd ran to phone
and left a trail of her insides
along the corridor.
her heart lines
or whatever it is that lets the happiness in
they're sealed shut
tight and all she can do is
stare
at things that don't notice her
whatever it was that connected him
and her
and let the sparks fly.
he is cold
and she is colder.
but its summer and the sun is burning everything
except her insides.
her bank balance
those savings that she scraped together for a car
or a ticket to somewhere to new.
she turned them to liquor
and let them sit in her stomach
and gloss over her eyes
and numb every single aching part of her.
two washing machines
from the pockets she fills with rocks
when the rains come and she wants to drown
the corners of all her books from flicking
bending and shaking edges
whenever she thinks of you
you stupid boy
her first car
crumpled in a ravine
and it left a scar on her stomach
that she sometimes can poke
and feel a lump that science can't explain
and she thinks it physical sadness
resting
waiting
the entire box of plates
that her mother gave her for moving out
and making it on her own
well, she almost made it
but something about them
being under the ground left
her shaking uncontrollably
and the tears slid underneath fingertips
and she lost the grip
and didn't notice until she'd ran to phone
and left a trail of her insides
along the corridor.
her heart lines
or whatever it is that lets the happiness in
they're sealed shut
tight and all she can do is
stare
at things that don't notice her
whatever it was that connected him
and her
and let the sparks fly.
he is cold
and she is colder.
but its summer and the sun is burning everything
except her insides.
her bank balance
those savings that she scraped together for a car
or a ticket to somewhere to new.
she turned them to liquor
and let them sit in her stomach
and gloss over her eyes
and numb every single aching part of her.
Literature
Untitled
Palms balmy with chlorophyll
I would clench lighter fluid between spider print finger tips
Palms slick with perspiration and adrenalin
Cheap liquor to give us a mediocre buzz
Watered down whisky and crumpled cigarettes
We'd slink into broken down kiddie parks, quiet and unwanted
Kicking our legs to the skies in an attempt to life ourselves off the earth
But wax melts far too quickly and a nosedive into the earth's core
Seems strangely appealing, I guess we're the kids parent's warn their children about
I can hardly doubt them, we are patchwork masochists
Finding solace in flowering bruises and cross hatched stitches
Pick pocketing pennies
Literature
untitled one.
stepping on cracks would never
break my mother's back
and isn't that a shame. isn't that
a fucking shame.
pennies aren't worth
your hand-me-down bones –
a fractured support system.
you're eroding away
before my eyes and who would
want you? who in their right
mind would want
you
Literature
Untitled (2)
I would never fall in love
with another poet
All that fragility
arrogance
destruction
Binary stars
supernova
Knife fights
with pieces of glass
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Comments16
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This is really nice..