I’ve been pulling words
From me like splinters from my palm,
With razor in hand
Peeling back dead skin to show the articulations,
And it feels like I’m losing myself when I take it out.
Each bit of language splatting on linoleum floors in front of a cackling audience.
I didn’t want you to hear this.
I don’t think I can say it. I think I’ll go home.
I’m losing steam through my mouth and moving nowhere
I don’t have any answers, unimportant questions to **** off peers
And I’m going in circles with them, and with myself.
Last month I tried to write a poem about childhood
When I lived in that house in the woods by the lake
I can think of the pictures but I can’t get them together
There were times when I walked in the rain to school,
And there were times when I told my mom “I wish I wasn’t born” because I had to go to sleep at 9:30pm but,
I keep thinking of the last time I saw my mom,
She was looking much weaker
And the doctors gave her morphine for the pain
Sleeping in the hospital bed
In the living room in which I grew up.
It didn’t seem real.
I was too shocked to speak
My only resolve to everything,
"That's life"
But that is life.
I don't need to narrate the hole in my throat.
Doesn't the soliloquy sound like a
Crying baby?
I am the melodramatic Hamlet crying for you now.
Don’t look at me.
I’m running circles on ***** laundry.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 2:14 AM UTC
I’ve been pulling words
From me like splinters from my palm,
With razor in hand
Peeling back dead skin to show the articulations,
And it feels like I’m losing myself when I take it out.
Each bit of language splatting on linoleum floors in front of a cackling audience.
I didn’t want you to hear this.
I don’t think I can say it. I think I’ll go home.
I’m losing steam through my mouth and moving nowhere
I don’t have any answers, unimportant questions to **** off peers
And I’m going in circles with them, and with myself.
Last month I tried to write a poem about childhood
When I lived in that house in the woods by the lake
I can think of the pictures but I can’t get them together
There were times when I walked in the rain to school,
And there were times when I told my mom “I wish I wasn’t born” because I had to go to sleep at 9:30pm but,
I keep thinking of the last time I saw my mom,
She was looking much weaker
And the doctors gave her morphine for the pain
Sleeping in the hospital bed
In the living room in which I grew up.
It didn’t seem real.
I was too shocked to speak
My only resolve to everything,
"That's life"
But that is life.
I don't need to narrate the hole in my throat.
Doesn't the soliloquy sound like a
Crying baby?
I am the melodramatic Hamlet crying for you now.
Don’t look at me.
I’m running circles on ***** laundry.
