Lauren Christina Pearson

Lauren Christina Pearson Mar 2013

I spend Mondays pulling pieces
of glass from the bottom of my feet.

Every shard reminding me of you.
Every line of blood bringing out your face.
And I smile with a bitterness,
as I throw the pieces away.

On Tuesdays I try to make
everything symbolic.

I sit at my window in utter bareness,
and whisper to the cold panes that if everyone
stopped lying, we'd all be left naked.

Wednesdays are the days I drink
only water, and eat only celery.

Hoping to purge my body of poison.
Hoping to drop another pant size.
Wanting to get high off double zero skinny jeans.

Thursdays I always attempt to draw,
but never get past the art of words.

It's so much easier to stay in
my comfort zone.  Hang out with
punctuation, margins, and lines.

Fridays have a way of
being rather nostalgic.

It's never a happy trip down memory lane.
Too many wrong turns to be made.
Too many *** holes to get lost in.

Saturdays I binge on pizza,
realizing how much I love to eat.

The strangest feeling I'll ever know,
is that of feeling full.  I'm so used
to feeling completely hollow.

Sundays are horribly predictable,
that I can always count on.

To diffuse my energy I break wine bottles.
You'd never believe how it feels to walk
over something you've completely destroyed.

Late night writing, what're ya gonna do. Am I right?

Lauren Christina Pearson Mar 2013

Marley Rain *Exercise*

In Houston, Texas,
she was a volcanic eruption.
A sword ripping through
the societal norms.
She looked on the world
as her carnival, sometimes sticky
and smelly, but wonderful and bright.

Every morning Marley would
sit on her driveway.
Waiting for the mailman to
bring her the bills.
Every morning she'd smile at him.
Tell him stories about her
life as flea market shopper.
"There's a piece of gold
amidst all that trash."
Introduce him to her shelled spider.
"This is my pet crab Eddie.
We're best friends, he's a hermit too."

Her death came in an odd
silence.
Her simple absence on Wednesday
morning.
Marley Rain was an exceptional
girl.
The mailman said she made an exceptional
corpse.

I starred this with exercise because I wrote it in my creative writing class, and because I think I'm going to take a few pieces from this and use for the basis of another poem. I'm only posting it for your amusement ^_^ it's rather odd. We had to incorporated all these crazy things that our classmates said, so that's why it's so random!

Lauren Christina Pearson Mar 2013

A Cruel Joke

Life doesn't stop,
even if you don't know
how to keep going.

Everyday I still have to
wake up without you.

Thinking of adding to the last stanza " A cruel joke with no real punch line." But at the same time, I kind of like it just like this. My feelings tonight on the baby I lost September 9th, 2011.

Lauren Christina Pearson Mar 2013

Step One:

Step one:
Admit that you have a problem.

Hi, I'm so and so,
and I am anorexic.
Wait, am I supposed
to state one problem
or all of them?

Let me start over.

Hi, I'm so and so,
and I am anorexic.
I am a self harming,
drug abusing, attention
seeking, anorexic with
a penchant for seeking
out love in all the wrong places.
I'm an occasional smoker,
a complete *****,
and a highly trained klepto.

I'm also a procrastinator,
does that count?

I'm self-consumed, suicidal,
and sometimes I let water boil over on the stove without cleaning up the mess.
I blame things on other people as often as possible, and never tell the
cashier when they've given me too much change back.

I know that's not all,
but it's awfully hard to remember everything
that's wrong with me right now.

Oh yeah, I'm forgetful. And terrible under pressure.
And at public speaking. I lie...a lot, and actually,
I made some of these problems up.

So I came here to get help.
By the way, when exactly does that start?

Don't ask... No clue where this came from. Just, yeah.

#weird #random #aa #supportgroups

Lauren Christina Pearson Mar 2013

Company Recall: Human Jigsaw.

I started with a boundary line.
I found all my edges and started building in.
Every piece felt different.
Another personality come to stay.
And yet they all fit so easily inside my frame,
as if I'd kept this space open for them all along.

So I drank them in.
I flooded myself with their
convexed and concaved sides.
I let them find their place,
no guidance along the way,
and waited to feel whole again.

Then I realized what it felt like
to be assembled by a faulty machine.
To have a piece of myself lost on some dusty floor,
waiting to be swept away.

How am I supposed feel whole,
when I was never that way to begin with?
Who do I blame for my missing pieces?

Lauren Christina Pearson Mar 2013

Lost In Translation (Prose)

So much is lost in language, something I remember every time I fail to describe your eyes. Maybe words are just the reality of life, truth without all the romanticism, but I can't help thinking that everything looks worse in black and white. The newspaper tells me about the **** that happened down the street, but the printed words can't describe the woman's screams as she was pierced in a way that will forever leave a scar. It doesn't give us the vindictive sense of power that the monster walked away with, still uncharged and roaming the streets. Words can't breathe life onto paper, but that doesn't stop us from trying to make a body out of ink. Something to hold close at night when sobs are held in and rib cages are sore.

Written, as always with prose it seems, in my creative writing class during an exercise. Enjoy!

Lauren Christina Pearson Mar 2013

A Bookworm's Love Song. (edit)

Every night I try to press myself
into the pages of my favorite book,
and every night I realize that the spine
is too weak to hold onto all the extra vowels.

So instead,
I tear out every single page.
I fold them into paper airplanes,
each with my lip stain on the wing,
and I scatter them in your yard.
I watch every one glide and soar
until it crashes, even after I've
woken the neighbors. Even after
your parents have called the police.
Even after you stand in front of me,
so close that all I can do is crush them
against your chest.

Edited QUITE A BIT