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sasha-rossPoems
I snowfalls an epic battle boom crashsmack the white blanket here never covers that city we fled this place for more mistakes than fingers and toes avalanche! car wheels can not navigate the areas the 4, 5, 6 barrels through what a problem for exposed skin a nose red ice in your hair wet. why didn’t you just wait II for the express train the local makes me sick you know closeness gives me hives even if everyone is the son (or daughter) of someone each birth celebrated if only for a moment the white haired mowhawk man bald girl the dreadlocked boy standing so close his exhale is my next breath in III to the same routine of forgetfulness even you and me deeming ourselves the lost children rust-belt transplants we too had futures planned for but not this living on nicotine secondhand books and pin-up girls on the walls there’s cat food but nothing in the cupboard except IV a wooden rosary wrapped around too-thin wrists for a good luck charm anti-drug shirts for irony and combat boots so there is no mistake you are not your father’s child sprung like Athena from a thought already formed armed and ready V to rage against the idea that we are the products of an upbringing less than ideal and we oscillate back and forth between a sense of pity and belonging because long ago we lost track of what was the truth and what were the things we manufactured to make life more interesting and god I love you but you trouble me I texted while you VI can’t seem to hold down a job coffee and camels don’t pay for themselves maybe this attention deficit is real not just something made to keep us still during classes I won’t show up for except when I want attention and you’re already spent falling all over yourself and then me because VII we stopped pretending months ago this was anything other than a practice in dating each other’s mothers but I can’t be the only one who knows how to roll our cigarettes while you shower with no curtain and I lean back letting steam mask the smoke that’s not allowed in an apartment with no heat and no door **** less fighting more complaining since VIII the mattress is on the floor who can afford a bed frame these days but it’s probably for the best the windows won’t close all the way anyway it’s snowing inside again and you note men leading lives of quiet desperation it isn’t nearly as poetic as it sounds so your mother argues but fights to say: oh how I love you IX so love, find the bright in the gray dinginess rings loud you’ve been hearing colors again smelling sounds olfactory hallucinations brought on by a lack of overhead lighting
0
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 8:40 PM UTC
January Wedding
I snowfalls an epic battle boom crashsmack the white blanket here never covers that city we fled this place for more mistakes than fingers and toes avalanche! car wheels can not navigate the areas the 4, 5, 6 barrels through what a problem for exposed skin a nose red ice in your hair wet. why didn’t you just wait II for the express train the local makes me sick you know closeness gives me hives even if everyone is the son (or daughter) of someone each birth celebrated if only for a moment the white haired mowhawk man bald girl the dreadlocked boy standing so close his exhale is my next breath in III to the same routine of forgetfulness even you and me deeming ourselves the lost children rust-belt transplants we too had futures planned for but not this living on nicotine secondhand books and pin-up girls on the walls there’s cat food but nothing in the cupboard except IV a wooden rosary wrapped around too-thin wrists for a good luck charm anti-drug shirts for irony and combat boots so there is no mistake you are not your father’s child sprung like Athena from a thought already formed armed and ready V to rage against the idea that we are the products of an upbringing less than ideal and we oscillate back and forth between a sense of pity and belonging because long ago we lost track of what was the truth and what were the things we manufactured to make life more interesting and god I love you but you trouble me I texted while you VI can’t seem to hold down a job coffee and camels don’t pay for themselves maybe this attention deficit is real not just something made to keep us still during classes I won’t show up for except when I want attention and you’re already spent falling all over yourself and then me because VII we stopped pretending months ago this was anything other than a practice in dating each other’s mothers but I can’t be the only one who knows how to roll our cigarettes while you shower with no curtain and I lean back letting steam mask the smoke that’s not allowed in an apartment with no heat and no door **** less fighting more complaining since VIII the mattress is on the floor who can afford a bed frame these days but it’s probably for the best the windows won’t close all the way anyway it’s snowing inside again and you note men leading lives of quiet desperation it isn’t nearly as poetic as it sounds so your mother argues but fights to say: oh how I love you IX so love, find the bright in the gray dinginess rings loud you’ve been hearing colors again smelling sounds olfactory hallucinations brought on by a lack of overhead lighting
sasha-ross
Written by
sasha-ross
American
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 8:40 PM UTC
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