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Connor Thomas Aug 2013
psychic infantile bopping
play silent drum kits in ear canals.
screeching like whales
in caverns of sea and stalagmites.

servantile shrapnel leaking into abyss:
feeding on skin and bones,
eating through biting cries,

gumdrops streaking sidewalk
in musical rhythm stain glass windows
and blurry red eyed sun high in the sky
shines down crystalline tear drops
over your singularly secular shadow.
Connor Thomas Jun 2013
The special subtleness
that you use to bite your lip
is cunning.
And when your white,
soldier teeth,
come looming from between your gums
your subtlety is lost
rashly breaking the surface
so to speak
malevolently, or violently, or rather vehemently,
sexually, and lustfully
aimed down wind,
in my direction.
Connor Thomas Jun 2013
The sun set sadly on the settled window frame
speaking with the new dew soon to form.

the sweet singing voices rose from the garden
where you bathed with your sister
while your mother and father drank cherry flavored wine
on the porch in the melting sun.

when the stars began to rain you felt something new
staring up where the sun is commonplace
you felt little better than you did moments ago.

but when your sister,
hand on your spine,
whispered in your ear,
your hair stood up,
and your mother,
and your father,
waved goodbye to the Hendersons going to Florida for the weekend.
Connor Thomas Mar 2013
I. The moment you rolled out of bed
felt like an eternity
Your stretching arms reached outer space
And you fell into convulsions on the daisy print bed sheets

II. The humming pendulum clock
ticks past midnight
and the only sound you can hear
is the screeching of your neighbors 1999 porsche convertible

III. Your sunday morning television,
News at it’s finest with Kare 11

IV. Whatever time you usually wake up
you probably slept through
but you’re staring at the fan again
and this time I don’t think Rachel is coming.
Connor Thomas Mar 2013
Bright hand touched the door
Easing it slowly around
With the tenderness of a prepubescent girl
Lingering gently about.
Wondering, loudly i might add,
That you really hate these Venetian blinds.

You sit in the fat leather chair,
Which must have belonged to your dad a million years ago.
You sip diet coke like your lost friend brandy,
And you cross your legs in the most ****** way
That my seminal vesicle shifts into overdrive.

Through the tainted windows
I see you raise your winter scarf to your throat
Ceremoniously, or possibly vehemently.
After which you clean your glasses with laser precision
And raise them back into place.
Your crystal gaze lands on the heavy door a few steps away,
They wait in concentrated intensity
As each heavy step’s staccato note is heard form the other side.
Connor Thomas Mar 2013
you quickly quipped cunning comments
in the skinniest jeans west of the mississippi
sighing softly then,
glancing to the left to keep an eye on the spider
scurrying on the wall.

you emerged triumphantly
luminously translucent
like a goddess of the noon sun

your eyes skipped mine in a beat
seconds behind my own
and with the final say from your fist
the walls began to fall

and outside, the small southwestern suburb
watches with fascination as the spider skids away.
Connor Thomas Mar 2013
Let the rain fall all night
Sitting in puddles on the street
With your ponytail soaking.
Let the May showers come again
With the repetition of Nietzche.

You lie on your back in the cool wet mud
Spitting insults in a million different ways.

You let your golden hair fall
As the leaves might in Autumn
Continuously spitting with fury
Hiding your anguish behind those self centered eyes.

When you fall to your knees like the mortals to gods
You sing, quietly, the song your mother sang
After which, your hair back up, you appear from the shadows
Looking a bit worse for wear.

You let the rain shower down,
Ripe yellow hair turns almost brown at the roots
And as you tear off the drenched silk dress
You find you might like yourself better that way.
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