Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Im not sure how much I like it here
The lights strung along these walls are more like little blazing suns
and my eyes are unable to adjust to any of them.
The overwhelming taste of frosting makes my nose itch and
I want to go home.
But I cant, because I was brought here and thrown out of hiding.
Like a dog with it's tail beneath his legs I smiled, grinned really, I was grinning like I had gold between my teeth.
And they laughed their fee-fi-fo-fum laugh and I tried to laugh back but,
You know how it goes?
Giants always seem to ****** your breath away.
Maybe its their smell.
In my head I rehearse
Where's the bathroom?
Where's the bathroom?
But in reality I mean
"How do you exit this castle, and are you sure there's no crocodiles in that mote?"
Besides, If you can count the years of my life with candles on a cake then I haven't lived long enough to die here.
And what happens when I blow them all out?
The smoke is giving me a headache, and I can now feel the wrinkles cracking above my flushed cheeks.
Please save me from this fortress of fumblers because
I want to go home.
In warmth beneath the insulated drywall
I curse my gooey insides
for not being as solid
as the lamented linoleum
moreover, I wish I didn't need
to declare such trivialities but
I do
What thoughts I have of you tonight, hidden friend, for I skipped through the grey with a head full of brightness that managed to seep on through.
In one of my short wanders, I passed by dreaming of a future with you filling up the void.
What rules to break, what numerous revelations to be sought after,
the safety net has a tear the size of a watermelon.

I saw you, my little trapeze *******, doing a balancing act fit for the judges. Who are you trying to impress, who else would you dance for?
Are you the wolf at my door?
I wandered between those strings, pressed back from fear of spiders.
We couldn’t there’s too much guilt, a dead swan on the lake,
Never is there room for another prodigal’s son.

Where are we going with all this, is there a light you're following that I don’t see? You’re being called elsewhere, I understand,
but if i never see you again let me feel the lack.
Meanwhile we will tame the tigers with whips and chairs, we will shout into microphones from across the room. Crowds before us, all hungry for a show, to see the performance of our lives. Ah Pandora, you may leave your box closed for now as I fear this ballerina has caught a bad case of stage fright, along with the tigers.
a response to *A Supermarket in California*  by Allen Ginsberg
There lay appeal in you I can’t get near
beyond what I could ever hope to be,
inside held back by this old faceless fear
yet you exert control o’er most of me.

Alone I wonder if I had dreamed you
inside the broken piece of my own head,
but rather than a view of stars anew,
addictions to an outline that won’t shed.

A whole year on hiatus for you friend,
internal bleeding from one-sided strife,
alone with all these countless wounds to tend-
I figure it’s time to let you live life.

Tonight my eyes forego some of their shine
because in dreams alone will you be mine.

— The End —