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jiminy-littlyPoems
Until today I could not see you too afraid to look in a mirror Skin loose Jaw tight, a motar grinding teeth A confused looking man, already? Are you ready? Adrift, we alive are dizzy, mad, confused, or blank. Stroking our nostril hair, portraying different parts, one a banker, a father, an assassin Once even a sort of Irish troll, slash, Quasimodo, do you regret the metaphor? How it happened... akin to looking back And thinking nothing, black on black Whiteshade in light Static void (smiling cow). Who was chaufeured around Paris in that film anyway? That girl, you know, the one who won't wear shoes Or socks She plays in several scenarios, once a mother, a nurse, a nun on the run, a chemist, a voluptuous ventriloquist, pregnant, humming, doing the dishes, going to church, staying up late to feed the cats can you imagine playing all those lifetimes on a raft an inventive vehicle wouldn't you say? I'm a nobody Arranging words so they align with thoughts Uneven and impure These poems are like living on snack food What I want to say is, half of me is out the door Living with the ants.
0
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 3:05 AM UTC
Raft
Until today I could not see you too afraid to look in a mirror Skin loose Jaw tight, a motar grinding teeth A confused looking man, already? Are you ready? Adrift, we alive are dizzy, mad, confused, or blank. Stroking our nostril hair, portraying different parts, one a banker, a father, an assassin Once even a sort of Irish troll, slash, Quasimodo, do you regret the metaphor? How it happened... akin to looking back And thinking nothing, black on black Whiteshade in light Static void (smiling cow). Who was chaufeured around Paris in that film anyway? That girl, you know, the one who won't wear shoes Or socks She plays in several scenarios, once a mother, a nurse, a nun on the run, a chemist, a voluptuous ventriloquist, pregnant, humming, doing the dishes, going to church, staying up late to feed the cats can you imagine playing all those lifetimes on a raft an inventive vehicle wouldn't you say? I'm a nobody Arranging words so they align with thoughts Uneven and impure These poems are like living on snack food What I want to say is, half of me is out the door Living with the ants.
jiminy-littly
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jiminy-littly
M
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 3:05 AM UTC
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