my vocabulary is so small
that i think i actually have some sort of issue
Help me and help her
We are still in the water
It was all so quick
I finally bought some chocolate
but, still, where’s heaven?
Checking my watch
Oh, nevermind, don’t have one
my vocabulary is so small
I AM A WALL
AND I WATCH
AM LEANED AGAINST
THERE ARE PORTRAITS
THAT TOUCH ME AND
I HEAR VOICES
I SMELL YOUR PERFUME
BUT I CANT LOVE YOU
I HATE THIS COMPARISON
I was sick from work
Seconds from my face melting
Eyelids on 2 hours of sleep
Eyelids dragging on the ground
I felt my body
in the shape of a car
I became a car
I was one of those cars
A family car
Though I know nothing of family
Family cars are busy, I guess,
and that was 2012
I became a wall
People knocked on me
People talked to me
I can only feel them knock
I guess that’s all for now.
He’s a rat, he says
Or a chimpanzee, when needed
We live in plastic worlds called caves
Men with pens, they call, spears
Successful Ancestral hunts
of the remote, the tits,
man soap, man lotion, man yogurt
and a denial of the junkyard info
and the pseudo, the lack of a link
because there’s always some study
always numbers, numbers out and up the ass
A novel female is hunted -
violation, eaten with paper of false reason taste,
moves along in “natural” camoflage
So that hatred isn’t known by its name
When we needed to travel,
We went to the air
Yet when it comes to speaking,
You’re still sleeping in the cave.
Progress without equality
is without headaches for him
Equality would split rock
of his cave,
rocks to break his head,
He must stay patient
for it to heal:
Once equality destroys your shelter,
There’ll be nothing between you and the stars.
I meant to edit that poem before it posted.
Actually, I think, I mean to edit all of my poems.
Because 98% are rough drafts.
But Tumblr is my sketchbook sort of thing for poetry and other stuff.
But that was an ultra rough one.
If you can’t get rid of the holes in your shoes
and no one rids you of them after death,
There won’t be an autopsy.
Words aren’t dissected
unless their insides turn into gold.
The day you went with him to the tower,
I remember a banshee dancing in the wind
and all the little droplets that fell on my face
making everything of my eyes into tiny ghosts
I stood miles away
but I could hear the crackle, the smell of ashes
and sight of the constant red glow upon his face
In that glow, you felt the future
Our home sold as an ancient ruin for tourists to wander
Their cameras occasionally catching our hands, noses, feet
Our whispers caught on tape, everyone missing the words
They will say we’re calling out such and such names
Charles, Paul, I don’t know who, some will say we’re calling for help.
What I’ll try to tell you is that you shouldn’t have loved him.
What you’ll try to tell me is that you wish you could have stayed.
You smelled the ashes even then
That was before all the sand fell
His love severed your back
I know, I could hear that too
That was the crackle.