Sep 2012
A chalky body
tainted with sticky ruby,
acne-riddled, dark spots.
Digits
spill out
over your tongue
onto the red floor.
Clatter,
now spin.
Watch through your dried blood fringe
as it revolves,
let the good times roll,
isn’t that what you say?
Now this is out of your hands,
out of your mouth,
blurred blackness,
your choice down to chance.
A low rotating sound
and it lands
next to crimson painted nails.
Your number is up.
tainted with sticky ruby,
acne-riddled, dark spots.
Digits
spill out
over your tongue
onto the red floor.
Clatter,
now spin.
Watch through your dried blood fringe
as it revolves,
let the good times roll,
isn’t that what you say?
Now this is out of your hands,
out of your mouth,
blurred blackness,
your choice down to chance.
A low rotating sound
and it lands
next to crimson painted nails.
Your number is up.
Written: September 2012.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time and the first in a short series of short poems about pictures of women I stumble across online that I don't know, or DO know but not terribly well, similar to older poems such as 'Holly.' This piece refers to a picture I saw of a girl holding a die between her teeth and I found it to be an interesting image. May go back to this and edit it more in the future. This poem was also put as a Facebook status update and is available on my WordPress blog.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time and the first in a short series of short poems about pictures of women I stumble across online that I don't know, or DO know but not terribly well, similar to older poems such as 'Holly.' This piece refers to a picture I saw of a girl holding a die between her teeth and I found it to be an interesting image. May go back to this and edit it more in the future. This poem was also put as a Facebook status update and is available on my WordPress blog.
