Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Touch me,
it doesn't matter where
and it doesnt matter how
I need to know I'm still alive
so someone touch me now
Shake my hand and say hello
or pat me on the back
kiss me on the cheek
that I may feel this sense I lack
slap my face and pull my hair
make me bleed I just don't care
dig your nails into my skin
so I can feed this need within
I've been numb for such a time
that even pain would be sublime
so touch me, touch me now
I don't care where, I don't care how
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
http://twitter.com/athomashawkins
 Sep 2010 Kathryn Houghton
SG
On my right;
A pair of girls with trendy leather messenger bags
Permanently glued to their shoulders
That holds no namesakes
On my left;
One ex-best friend,
One once-friend-but-now-an-enemy,
And a third who hates by association

Navy drips from the spot directly above my head
And slides, and spreads,
And covers the teal along the edges of evening

My jaw is ground shut with the tension,
The weight of the hatred
Clamping my teeth to each other
Pulling the muscles with their ties
That are beyond invisible


I’m alone, as always –
**No emo intended.
I wrote this on my cell phone after seeing a play at my school, observing my schoolmates around me as I waited for my dad to arrive. I kept getting chills not from the evening, but from the walls they had built around me, even the people I didn't know.
i want to wake up at 6 a.m.
with the rest of the world
i want to run and run and run
like the rest of the world
i want to run
but i want to run farther than you

i want to run until i sweat
i want to run until i sweat and bleed
i want to run until i sweat and bleed and puke
and hack
and wheeze
and collapse
and crawl
and faint
and wake up
and keep running

i want to run
i want to run like the rest of the world
like you

i want to run like you do. but way, way farther.
I have a strange dream
seen in oddest of nights -
the one where I'm bouncing
on an old grist stone
that is spinning awfully fast.
with every push of hands to get free,
gravity pulls me back down
and I'm erasing.
first fingers and toes -
we could live without those -
but then it's elbows and knees

I eventually give up all hope of escape
and actually enjoy the ride for a bit
but opening mouth to say "ahhhh,"
I'm flung loose by centrifugal force,
and in epiphany, realize that
teeth had been griping the axle.
I could have been freed so much sooner
if only I'd let go first.
of course, by then not much was left
a mere twenty five pounds of finely marbled roast,
head still attached, but quite useless

frankincense smoldered in censers
when priests dressed in lacy
white wedding gowns
patted me down with fresh linen and silk.
the head they hacked off and discarded,
the gray not much used
but useless as transplant
and salesman refused it on trade-in.
they anointed dead flesh
in scents of rare oils
and spices imported from India,
solemnly transporting the meat to a pit
built just in front of the altar.

Young boys wearing dresses
took turns at the spit
making mean faces,
but only when no one was looking,
their tobacco juice joining
my fat drips spattered on coals.
finally I was done cooking,
three hours of basting,
and arranged with bruised fruit
on a huge silver platter with handles
that my wife rented just for the occasion.
steam shimmered over din
of all my friends, who were seated,
and family, too, dressed for a luau
in bright floral prints and grass skirts.
After a short blessing, they dug in.

When feeding was done,
dripping chins wiped from curtains
hung loose from the ceiling,
all seated agreed
the meal had been tasty,
though meat a bit gristly and greasy,
especially slices cut close to the edges.
a fat policeman called them to order
and somehow I read from a speech
by chance I had prepared in advance,
like a letter or even a poem,
in which I contritely confessed
I'd always wished to have been more,
but meal finished, and dishes clearing
at least now I'd always be with them.
Du warst meine kleine Aufklaerung
Obwohl ich noch lange nicht erwacht bleibe
Ohne dich fuehle ich die Waende
Und dreh mich den Kopf im Kreis
Bevor dich war der Horizont leer
Jetzt *******er unfassbar, so wie die Erinnerung an dir
Und alles ist ok so, weil man sehnt immer nach
Unmoegliches
Unmoegliches bist du
Ich werde immer besessen davon
Besessen von dir


[You were my small Enlightenment
Although I long since remain unawakened
Without you I feel the walls
And turn my head in a circle
Before you was the horizon empty
Now it appears intangible, like the memory of you
And everything is ok this way, because one always longs for the impossible
You are the impossible
With which I will always be obsessed
Obsessed with you]
MMX
Next page