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caliPoems
on a slow night in march- an oil slick of a night, the stars are dying quietly, and the moon is subtly watching the show. there are unloved cats, that once moved like nylon and smiled into fireplaces, crawling the perimeters of my thin walls, as I sit dead center, in a room that I cannot call my own; where the paint sticks to my creations and my words are swallowed by empty wine bottles and empty smiles set into gilded jawbones. and somewhere, somebody just dropped dead in their kitchen, while most people are sleeping, or chasing sleep, or making love to their plastic wives in a cold bed. and somewhere, is nowhere to me. i am ******* in air and hoping for zyklon b, grasping for keys that once opened doors, but now, i cannot cross the threshold, anyways. i am tripping over old knives in the floorboards and scolding my wide eyes for their blindness. i resign myself to my decisions, because there is nothing else nothing else I can do. i will rise in the morning, cast aside the sun, and hope that someday, sutures will take hold and i will see the ocean again.
0
Jun 8, 2012
Jun 8, 2012 at 12:05 AM UTC
Somewhere is Nowhere;
on a slow night in march- an oil slick of a night, the stars are dying quietly, and the moon is subtly watching the show. there are unloved cats, that once moved like nylon and smiled into fireplaces, crawling the perimeters of my thin walls, as I sit dead center, in a room that I cannot call my own; where the paint sticks to my creations and my words are swallowed by empty wine bottles and empty smiles set into gilded jawbones. and somewhere, somebody just dropped dead in their kitchen, while most people are sleeping, or chasing sleep, or making love to their plastic wives in a cold bed. and somewhere, is nowhere to me. i am ******* in air and hoping for zyklon b, grasping for keys that once opened doors, but now, i cannot cross the threshold, anyways. i am tripping over old knives in the floorboards and scolding my wide eyes for their blindness. i resign myself to my decisions, because there is nothing else nothing else I can do. i will rise in the morning, cast aside the sun, and hope that someday, sutures will take hold and i will see the ocean again.
cali
Written by
cali
American
Jun 8, 2012
Jun 8, 2012 at 12:05 AM UTC
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