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natty-morrisonPoems
This need I have for unidirectional movement will **** me. For all the windows to fall shut against the wind in one long line like prttttpptttt. Cards being shuffled. Dominos clack’d together on a gray kitchen floor . This need I have for hidden meaning of the most obvious kind will **** my street cred. A painting of a puzzle piece, a puzzle of a peace sign. Getting cute with your words can get you killed out here. I am buried under all the pressure of having blood. Of being an body owner. Like here, this is yours now ; Make a home for the body. Being born is like having a child beside yourself, another one inside. Pushing out, in. But I need the pressure, baby. Turn me back into the shape of a man. This need I have for object permanence, is killing the suspense. What if the ball doesn’t exist behind the couch? What if I didn’t have this need for storytelling voice, telling the story I’m only living. Because the story needs a teller like a hat needs a feather. Like a cat needs another reason to eat.. This need I have for control is inoperable cancer. Gravity in the bones, nothing left for me in the stars, the unbearable weight of barely anything at all.
0
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 3:06 AM UTC
Control/Dying
This need I have for unidirectional movement will **** me. For all the windows to fall shut against the wind in one long line like prttttpptttt. Cards being shuffled. Dominos clack’d together on a gray kitchen floor . This need I have for hidden meaning of the most obvious kind will **** my street cred. A painting of a puzzle piece, a puzzle of a peace sign. Getting cute with your words can get you killed out here. I am buried under all the pressure of having blood. Of being an body owner. Like here, this is yours now ; Make a home for the body. Being born is like having a child beside yourself, another one inside. Pushing out, in. But I need the pressure, baby. Turn me back into the shape of a man. This need I have for object permanence, is killing the suspense. What if the ball doesn’t exist behind the couch? What if I didn’t have this need for storytelling voice, telling the story I’m only living. Because the story needs a teller like a hat needs a feather. Like a cat needs another reason to eat.. This need I have for control is inoperable cancer. Gravity in the bones, nothing left for me in the stars, the unbearable weight of barely anything at all.
Written by
natty-morrison
American
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 3:06 AM UTC
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