#haircut
the clippers buzz a drone against my skull
the hair falls like dead flies
into the sink and onto the floor
loose curls crawl down my shoulders and back
tickling my neck
afterwards i stare hard into the mirror
searching my own face
for someone i could love
or at the very least live with
Jun 26, 2023
Jun 26, 2023 at 6:53 PM UTC
Oh my lover,
Do not mind my haircut.
If you miss my longer hair,
See an older picture.
I am surely bigger than my locks,
My experience is the greatest.
Feb 14, 2021
Feb 14, 2021 at 10:29 AM UTC
My hair got darker
when I cut the dead ends
to the unfinished stories
with split plots
at the end
of
each
s
t
r
a
n
d
/
\
/\
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 5:44 AM UTC
Snip Snip
She's staring at me in horror
Snip Snip
My hair is growing shorter
Snip Snip
'You look like a boy, Ash'
Apr 29, 2020
Apr 29, 2020 at 10:02 AM UTC
He is the short haircut
I have always loved
that never suit my face
yet would still get
every single time anyway
hoping one day,
it miraculously would.
Oct 7, 2019
Oct 7, 2019 at 9:51 AM UTC
I rub my hands
Along my scalp
I watch the hair
Fall in the sink
Bleach blonde hair
With mousey brown roots
Locks upon locks
Falling to the sink
I tell myself I'm brave
I can do this
My hair will grow back
Yet I still cry
As I watch all the hair
That he touched
Fall to the sink
The hair that he stroked
The hair that he pulled
The hair that he brushed
out of my eyes
I watch him leave my head
Along with the last thing he touched
My hair
Mar 30, 2019
Mar 30, 2019 at 8:15 PM UTC
I want to cut my hair
I don't want to cut my hair
It weighs me down
drags me along the
trenches of gender stereotypes
People look at me,
think,
"That's a girl."
And I'll turn the color
of diluted self-harm blood; pink.
Maybe I'll give
Being androgynous
a whirl.
It gets all knotty
I keep it in a dull, bland ponytail
I don't think it deserves more
Nor I
But if I cut it,
I'll still be in the stereotype
Here,
Another Queer!
Look there,
At their hair!
Probably gay,
By the way!
And what if I look stupid besides?
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 1:37 AM UTC
I pick up
the sharp blades,
and feel the weight
of a thousand things
fall of my shoulders.
I am cutting off
every little tie
that is left between us.
Each inch is
a memory.
You always did like my hair long.
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC
There is a barber shop built on the ashes of Babylon,
where men lose their ******** with shame that skip to the fourth kid,
There once was place where Samson's hairstyle was a treasure map.
A place where lost man travel
Where David found no stone
where Noah built an Ark but storm never came.
When we pass through that place even the stars we use for direction disappear.
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 9:04 AM UTC
The chatter in the room is almost mundane
The woman behind me has a dog she’s keeping outside who the neighbors aren’t too fond of because he’s a bit loud at night
I got to my hair appointment almost 15 minuets late as I slipped through the door of the I suppose modern styled ‘Yellow Strawberry’ my mother was on the phone
She wears this head set that wraps around your neck and never realizes she yells when she is talking to people and it makes me cripplingly anxious
The mirrors are tall and filled with unimpressed faces glaring at us as my marvelous royal purple polyester velvet skirt glistens in the sunlight peeking in from the dropped shades
I mutter out the time of my appointment apologize that we are late and give them my name
I know it is spelt wrong in the computer, and the odds of one of the people in here having a dog named bella are unbelievable high
As I’m escorted back to my hair dressers station I remember, I need to repaint my chipped glittery red nail polish before I pick all of it off and feel disgusting
But this particular nail polish is extremely difficult to get off and I regret every-time I paint my nails with it
But it looks so god **** beautiful in the sunlight and my lover adores the color against my almost porcelain like skin so I indulge from now and again
I am here to hopefully cut about three inches off of my hair, it’s getting too long it sits painfully at about an inch or two below my shoulders
Four months ago I cut off about 10 inches and I felt about 50 pounds of anxiety lift from my chest
I think my fears started to manifest in my curls and the knots that kept returning reminding me over and over again I needed a desperate change
And now I’m finding myself approaching another much needed change, it’s nice
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 3:45 PM UTC
the scissor is on your
nape. think away the thought, please
.
.
.
water. there's a drop stroking over the rim that is your forehead. down, down. a
tear. slips down. a tear of
blood. down more. it edges toward your jaw, neck, throat, into a
vein. crawling, descending. throughout your self and your legs,
crisscrossing. spiderveins. open into
roots, white fading to spruce. your feet are gone and you are a
tree. millions more of you but look up to your leaves, flickering green to the sunlight like
a school of fish. silver in the surrounding black. a cold, encompassing, holding, embracing
ocean. you are the water once more. only this time you meet the sky, through a gate called
horizon. endless. infinite. edging, but it only follows you and you it.
are you one with the world? if not, be the world.
you are a world.
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 6:57 PM UTC
My hair came out slowly . Stand by stand. On pillow cases and sweaters. His stayed full and long. I always envied his curl. I cut mine off and didn’t like his reaction. Mine is growing back now. I think he cut his.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 11:08 AM UTC
Okay so maybe I did cut my hair because I was depressed
and what's wrong with that if I did
a healthy release right
it's not something that I regretted
and I wasn't crying while I did it so
isn't it a good thing
even if that's all shaving my head did
was get me to stop crying for the 10 minutes it took for me to shave it clean
isn't that a good enough excuse
cuz it's a **** good excuse for me
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 10:55 PM UTC
I wake up. The bed is cold.
I am cold.
A gray day awaits.
I stare into the blank ceiling,
And feel an emptiness I cannot fill.
Not without her.
I stand up and shuffle across my shattered bedroom,
To the door.
The glint of the golden doorknob is the only color in this place.
I drink a tea. My mother is worried.
She's starting to notice I'm not eating at all.
Maybe...
It's time for a haircut.
A change...
From who I am. It'll do me good,
To be someone else, for a moment.
"I still love her" I think to myself, but it is silenced when I slice a hole into my head.
It is clean, a thin trail of blood which becomes a waterfall.
It streams down my face, and I keep cutting,
Blood and hair and tears falling as I stare into this broken mirror,
And the most horrible, hideous monster looks back at me.
I hate him so much, and I cut more in hopes that he will look away.
But he doesn't.
His frozen, desolate eyes stare deep into my soul,
Or rather his own,
The poor disgusting *******
He has forgotten what it is to feel anything but pain,
And even that is escaping him.
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 9:58 PM UTC
Last night I had a little too much to drink.
How much is too much?
Hmmm, lemme think...
I.
Got.
Bangs.
I got bangs! Did you hear me?
I got ******* bangs!
But this wasn't a pro job...
I gave myself bangs.
Are the bangs a good haircut?
Do the bangs frame my face?
All solid questions;
It depends on your taste:
Should bangs be all jagged?
Should they move on their own?
Is it cool if they’re aflutter,
Like I’m always windblown?
Should bangs be greasy, and stringy, and frizzy?
And this here bangs cowlick, does it make me look pretty?
I was going for Taylor Swift, circa 2010.
What I got was a late ‘80s George Harrison.
These bangs are a problem,
I’m starting to think.
Maybe I can fix them,
After another strong drink.
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 5:50 PM UTC
In from the rain the barber comes,
and shimmies off his jacket.
His customers' hair
is already there,
waiting for him to attack it.
Swish! Slice! Snickerty-snack!
Face the mirror, forwards!
How ya bin?
Tilt your chin -
the hairs fall to the floorboards!
Dec 17, 2017
Dec 17, 2017 at 6:46 PM UTC
~September 2014~
They came to me with hair filled with colour.
We met.
We talked.
Friends.
Right...
I miss them a lot.
And the only thing I seem to remember is the shape of their hair and all the rainbow it contained, from blue, to pink, to red, to green, to blonde, to finally going back to the normal root colour.
You could say the hair had personality of its own.
~August 2015~
Summer camp.
She was a stranger and a musician, and I had to know her.
She was a strong soul, and even holding her hand felt like a superpower I couldn't control.
Short cut hair.
Clean.
Swept over her eyes, over her ears.
Framing her smile.
~December 2016~
Techie girl.
She is the most complicated thing to come from all of this.
The semester didn't treat either of us well.
Slight curl to dark short hair. Shaven around the back, kept remarkably short.
Leaving her face untouched.
~July 2017~
Me.
I've shaved my head twice.
No shame in it.
My dignity not what it used to be.
My hair hangs down past my shoulders.
4:40pm comes around and I've lost inches upon inches of my hair.
6:30pm.
Slightly bobbed at the ends, framing my chin and shoulders.
Changing my hair part again.
Moving from side to center.
Straight hair, dark colour, lighter.
Short.
I like the aesthetic.
And I like these people.
I miss them most days.
But even though I'm now a short haired person myself.
I still forget about it...
Only to find my reflection later.
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 4:32 AM UTC
"That's it! I'll take it to the scissors myself!"
Mangled, wrangled, tangled mess,
meandering tendrils coil and cross, clump.
Split ends,
knots so impossibly tied the eagle scout is left bewildered,
sun damage: fried, frizzled, frazzled, frayed.
Broken teeth in a gasping comb,
choking brushes enveloped in the furling mess,
hairspray, fruitless, face it:
(Another) Bad Hair Day.
"That's it! Today's the day!"
The call is made, the appointment scheduled,
you sit and wait.
X's mark the calendar, the day is nigh,
your do's judgement day is at hand.
It's time to settle this.
The day before, you wake up,
absentmindedly getting dressed, drudging through routine,
mirror's the last thing you see.
Crusty eyes suddenly open wide,
as split ends seal and knots unfurl,
sun damage heals and combs sing ceaselessly.
The day is met with a new life,
and the dark days of yore seem like a past life,
as this sunny day seems like all there is.
You laugh at what now appears to be such trivialities,
"Twas a bad hair day! And merely so!"
You allow yourself such a shallow deception.
Your hand grabs the phone, your fingers make the call,
your voice makes the cancellation--
"How could I have been so foolish to resort to such measures?!"
You hang up and scoff at yourself,
a hearty laugh in jest at such hastiness,
tossing and swishing your luscious mane to and fro.
You allow it to slip through your fingers,
on the cusp of the cure,
as the bad hair days truly outnumber the good (you know it to be so).
For the next day will come--
You'll greet the mirror with that heart-wrenching sigh,
in visible anguish at the chaotic mess that encroaches upon your head.
Don't let a good hair day fool you;
make the call.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 12:13 AM UTC
Just a little off the top.
Drawin' a dotted line
'round the skull
takin' your shears
just above the ear.
Cuttin' a close crop.
Burrowin' into the skin this time
'round the skull
now your clippers
smilin' so chipper.
Leavin' a head clean smooth.
Whistlin' at a near-finished work
'round the skull
peelin' back the skin
bravin' a peek within.
Grabbin' that comb with its fine tooth.
Unfurlin' that pink mass of quirk
'round the skull
eyein' where tendrils append
trimmin' the dead ends.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 12:25 AM UTC
My friend cut his hair.
Many weeks ago.
His hair was long,
But now it's short,
Much shorter than before.
My friend cut his hair.
It's softer to the touch.
I pat his head,
A gentle tap,
He didn't like it much.
My friend cut his hair.
It used to hide his eyes.
I see them both,
Like pretty jewels,
No longer in disguise.
My friend cut his hair.
It makes him different now.
His eyes light up,
His smiles are warm,
As warm as he'll allow.
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
Got it buzzed
back to GI days.
A quarter inch
all over, I said
to the dubious barber.
It took some
getting used to
when passing
mirrors.
But now I love it!
I call it
my Monk's haircut.
No maintenance.
Wake up, perfect;
Swim, perfect;
Stroll about
in hurricane,
perfect.
Now I love
to feel
the wind
in my hair
that is
no longer
there.
~mce
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 10:17 AM UTC
I met someone today and he was awesome.
He wore a leather jacket, almost the same as yours.
He had a neat haircut but a funny beard.
Do you remember when
I used to always pester you
About trimming yours?
I did it all the time and you never listened.
Anyway, he told me a joke;
One that I've heard before and that still
Made me laugh like the world was about to end.
I think I know where I heard it the first time.
He also ordered your milkshake, I mean ours.
And smoked the same brand of cigarettes
You always did.
He was awesome because he took me for a ride
On his Harley Davidson and gave me his helmet
The way you always did.
He was awesome because he winked
At random girls and smiled at me
The way you always did.
He was awesome because he listened to the blues
The way you always did.
He was awesome because he reminded me of you.
Baby I think I still love you.
F.Z.N
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC