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faeri-shankarPoems
Remember the pitch of the leaky faucet In the third floor restroom Neither male Nor female Nor both. Speaking in unison That pitch What was the ******* pitch Dribbling eighth notes Tears worth pinning on your wall Next to your unused bottle of sunscreen From the time we drank in your living room And I realized you cared. There is a star on my pocket But I won’t remember it tomorrow Nor will I remember why I connected the six-petaled flower hole To Afganistan. Sleek. Smooth. I slid a straw through my ear Gazing past the green disoperation And noticed two formings of pimples beneath the right brow But maybe I imagined that too Along with the adrenaline and curiosity and false negativity. Shooting through my ankles Enveloping every muscle fiber Every menacing footstep I approach the door of Debussy Wading deep into the kelly green “Open” sign Sharpied just so no one ever flips it. Every frazzled hair follicle executes Frustration towards the poor soul Entering doom. Marracas from elementary I whispered beneath my mustache “Fancy seeing you here” Lingering my capillaries over their stitching A live animal in a dead environment. Pink toes and the Sostenuto pedal Beckon my return to civilization I remember why I’m here. I remember why I’m not.
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May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 4:41 PM UTC
Five Hours in 48
Remember the pitch of the leaky faucet In the third floor restroom Neither male Nor female Nor both. Speaking in unison That pitch What was the ******* pitch Dribbling eighth notes Tears worth pinning on your wall Next to your unused bottle of sunscreen From the time we drank in your living room And I realized you cared. There is a star on my pocket But I won’t remember it tomorrow Nor will I remember why I connected the six-petaled flower hole To Afganistan. Sleek. Smooth. I slid a straw through my ear Gazing past the green disoperation And noticed two formings of pimples beneath the right brow But maybe I imagined that too Along with the adrenaline and curiosity and false negativity. Shooting through my ankles Enveloping every muscle fiber Every menacing footstep I approach the door of Debussy Wading deep into the kelly green “Open” sign Sharpied just so no one ever flips it. Every frazzled hair follicle executes Frustration towards the poor soul Entering doom. Marracas from elementary I whispered beneath my mustache “Fancy seeing you here” Lingering my capillaries over their stitching A live animal in a dead environment. Pink toes and the Sostenuto pedal Beckon my return to civilization I remember why I’m here. I remember why I’m not.
faeri-shankar
Written by
faeri-shankar
American
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 4:41 PM UTC
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