If I could hold a word,
I'd have quite a few in my palms.
The clamminess of my hands
would dissolve them,
And they might imprint themselves
deep into my skin.
I live with these words,
I live with these women,
I dwell with this strange
reptile that can't
seem to behave.
The grains of time
continue to sift through
me.
My head is strained.
I'm breaking my wrists over the
hopeful bend
of space,
And my fingers won't stop twiddling
And now I'm driving 90 down the freeway
screaming at myself and the road.
I have a rage inside of me that's barreling its ugly face
Straight into the jaw of some unlucky recipient.
And I envy everything now,
And you're going to wish
you had seized me
right as the flower
curls over,
and smoothes out in subtle death.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
If I could hold a word,
I'd have quite a few in my palms.
The clamminess of my hands
would dissolve them,
And they might imprint themselves
deep into my skin.
I live with these words,
I live with these women,
I dwell with this strange
reptile that can't
seem to behave.
The grains of time
continue to sift through
me.
My head is strained.
I'm breaking my wrists over the
hopeful bend
of space,
And my fingers won't stop twiddling
And now I'm driving 90 down the freeway
screaming at myself and the road.
I have a rage inside of me that's barreling its ugly face
Straight into the jaw of some unlucky recipient.
And I envy everything now,
And you're going to wish
you had seized me
right as the flower
curls over,
and smoothes out in subtle death.
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