Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
I thought I had been cast out of the mud castle kingdom. Then one day it dawned on me, 28 miles per second would be enough to break through my own roaring and escape back into over developed proxy and reach a small awareness. enough, i thought, to overwhelm a wall of demons. Guarded are their black glassy gates. Then one day it happened. Pam, crying chemical rainbow tears while looking at all of the big red blimps. "now clouds" she said, "clouds should all be plastic and red." And with that her ankles turned to dust and started a fury of little cyclones. Outwards , outwards. now she cant spell forwards. she can't count backwards, and every other time she blinks her eyes the retina won't flip the image. The world goes upside down and insideout. I can't handle it.   They all lied to her, told her the world was just level. I am sleep now. I'm weak. Those big long brittle spider legs tapping at the pavement. Those big black belladonna eyes and wormwood spire. Godamned, he bent the buildings out of shape. He could sink all the gondolas in Venice.
0
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 6:08 PM UTC
Cowlicks
I thought I had been cast out of the mud castle kingdom. Then one day it dawned on me, 28 miles per second would be enough to break through my own roaring and escape back into over developed proxy and reach a small awareness. enough, i thought, to overwhelm a wall of demons. Guarded are their black glassy gates. Then one day it happened. Pam, crying chemical rainbow tears while looking at all of the big red blimps. "now clouds" she said, "clouds should all be plastic and red." And with that her ankles turned to dust and started a fury of little cyclones. Outwards , outwards. now she cant spell forwards. she can't count backwards, and every other time she blinks her eyes the retina won't flip the image. The world goes upside down and insideout. I can't handle it.   They all lied to her, told her the world was just level. I am sleep now. I'm weak. Those big long brittle spider legs tapping at the pavement. Those big black belladonna eyes and wormwood spire. Godamned, he bent the buildings out of shape. He could sink all the gondolas in Venice.
carl-hoek
Written by
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 6:08 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem