A walk around the block in my parents’ neighborhood at dawn wearing mom’s sweater and pop's sneakers with a clown hole cut out for toe infection I was stopped by a cop in a cruiser this was during the Vietnam War long hair ago he was angry at everyone I was offended by everything he said which way are you going I said which way are you going so he socked me in the mouth and handcuffed me I was arraigned on disorderly conduct and resisting arrest my good parents came down and stood beside me before the judge I wrote to the police department internal affairs not for retribution but to start a paper trail in case this cop someday bopped one of my brothers a few months later I’m back at work in NYC two detectives come into the city to question me one good cop one bad cop we park in the park me in the back seat they wanna know was I mouthy to the cop who punched me in the mouth long story short they leave me on a bench to eat my lunch and the charges are dropped
i find myself to be a contentious person because my big mouth never shuts but there's a lot of good coming out that just gets interlaced with some bad well-meaning, albeit, not exactly thought out thoughts that get espoused before they're finished i'm a rushed man amid no rapids
if it seems unclear know that it is no faces worn an empty bottle an uncertain smile is all that needs to be bought and sold the bigger thoughts just ambush your mind it feels like I have been stealing dawn's early demise cover your face with plastic bags...has it began to feel like the audience had left all those eyes ears and mouths I could not help the darkest shadows and the faltering lullabies of your facade
Imagine, I'm laying in your bed. Beneath your covers. On your pillow. In your arms. Imagine, you press your thumb to my lower lip, and you can hear my heart beating like a hammer. You remake my ribcage with your fingertips, and you teach me a new language with your mouth. You touch me with intention. Imagine, I let you. I uncurl. Moonlight filters in through the window and pours over us. That silky-white illumination is reflected in your eyes and it touches you so softly, I could scream. And the exquisite truth of it all is, that if you ever did get to touch me, I think I would die.
The open gaping mouth of glass, looking in and looking out The light refracting across the silent room Everything is closed off; the blinds; the doors; the boxes The glass eyes of the house muffling the sounds of the outside world
The inhabitant grown a slave to watching The gaping mouth of glass, looking in and looking out Stretching lines, darkening eyes, smiles turned hollow She'll trace the filtered light with frozen desperate fingers
Her sounds are empty and echo like a dripping water from a faucet The tiled floor is as cold as the snow that falls. Unseen The open gaping mouth of glass, looking in and looking out The wind seems to be whispering words she no longer yearns for
The blood is dancing with the cold Warming the static embrace of her head and fingers The inhabitant closes the blinds again, hiding the quiet scene The open gaping mouth of glass, looking in and looking out
Most people believe this is about suicide so I'm going to clear this up. The inhabitant and the girl are two different people. The poem focuses on a scene, but the whole purpose is to invoke the feelings that come with paranoia. It's about a man who killed a girl, but also talking about the guilt and fear of hiding a bad thing we've done. I hope it somehow showed what I was trying to convey.