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kellie anderson Jan 2020
ive been straining to grow flowers
back in the places of myself
that i set on fire so long ago
but now all the roots are charred with ash
and i keep scraping away at dust-
a hopeless endeavor to clean up the asphalt that i poured upon my own skin

and the people keep clogging my ears with clamor
of who i am now
and the parts of me that were consumed
in the deterioration
relighting embers that have sunk deep down in my pores

and i wish that when i became ignited,
i had disintegrated into nonexistence
  Jun 2019 kellie anderson
i cried in your car remembering the ones who cast me aside
you told me i wasn’t ready
you were right
kellie anderson Jun 2019
life regurgitates death-
a vulture franticly picks at the perished carcass of a rodent laying on the hot cement
consuming the remaining vitality held within its flesh  

even after our expiration date
there are still jobs to be attended to
giving and giving and giving
until everything has been consumed
until there is nothing but thin fragments of bones
scattered across a box six feet under the soil

both appear one in the same

and i wonder if maybe i should just leave myself out for the birds
kellie anderson May 2019
glancing across the table into eyes like stones
as a man outside smokes a cigarette
swearing to himself that it will be his last
and a baby cries from the other side of the room
silences that should be uncomfortable
but have grown far too familiar
and the moonlit ghostliness
bounces off the window pane

the delicacy of the world seen in an hourglass
sand leaking through the cracks
a ticking time bomb
of rationality and insanity

as dawn becomes dusk
and i gaze into the soul ******* pupils
of the man sitting across from me
a word.
kellie anderson May 2019
the moon stops slow dancing
with the stars
and packs up his bags
to give way for the sun to prepare his final act

and my mother is sobbing from down the hall
violently watching
as last nights fast food burgers and stale liquor
empties out from my stomach and into the toilet bowl

time after time again-

she says that there wont be a body left to love
once this is over
kellie anderson May 2019
contemporary eeriness ricochets
off the dry wall
colliding against the thinness of my skull
like a soldier firing a gunshot from a mile away
without any deterrent about the damage the exit wounds would cause

the octave changes
and the slurred speech drenches out of your lips
consonants and vowels with no connection

knock knock
here it comes again

the same lifeless language that has been spoken
time after time

and the audience applauds as you waltz off the stage
and the curtains close before i can clamor for an encore

the crowd is roaring as if you were speaking in tongues
but the novel was written for only my ears to understand the detriment

the lights dim out and the people scatter

and i am left alone against four walls
begging for the show to start over
after hearing “i dont love you” so many times it begins to sound like a line from a well rehearsed speech
kellie anderson Dec 2017
we are all puppets on a string
playing victim to the machinery
that lies within our bones.
being so consumed within
the advancing universe
that we, ourselves, have become to mimic it
to the very core unit of our being;
we are granted a framework of bones
replaced by pulleys and bolts,
circuits of thoughts
fueling the cogs
continuously rumbling in the brain.

has lessened in the skills
of thoughts and cognition
absent-mindedly replacing it
with mechanical intelligence.

heartbeats dance on the hands of a clock,
ticking nuclear bombs
running out of time;
one day to be exchanged
from skin to steel armour
and pixelated eyes.

beings with no capacity
to feel the heart wrenching sentiment of love.
beings with no desire
to ache with the accession of dread.
beings that we, shortly, are to evolve into.

is a puppet on a string,
within reach
of losing itself to technology.
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