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TC Apr 2013
Scuzzy film on a scalding riptide,
Bare sinew woven like scaffolding,
Catcalling as warm-and-fuzzies
Mince by like so many exposed marble legs
Passing construction sites.
Crimped by a polaroid viewfinder,
I sit alone and click-click-click
With folded memories in my pocket.

Let me just set the record straight:
I’m still in love with our contrails,
But you can go **** yourself.
We were helter-skeltering kids
Rivulets of caustic devotion
Sweltering down our skeletons,
Fly away with me again, please
I’m seeing synonyms for you
In every ally-cat hymnal
This gutter throat can sputter out
Seeing scarecrows bound by wicker muscles
Shivering in a windfarm
Powered by all those doors you slammed
Snapping together like worn
Rubber bands warm summer hands --
Dance with me, you were
The most perfectly human
I've ever felt.

Is that Listerine rolling out of your mouth
In waves of empty bottles once meant for me?
Off of your shoulders like a cape,
A swindler, eyeing you
Like you’re trying to sell me cutlery.
Exchange glances that are
Trailmix crumbling between couch cushions,
Rubbing shoulders with waspy relief,
Tendrils of comfort had me gripped by the biceps
Spread eagle like a petrified starfish
Till I lashed out at you with bullwhip arms
Because my own back had been too hard to reach lately,  

Mirrored
Ad Infinitum.
Your tongue looks like a mirror,
Stick it out at me,
We always did look more than alright together
People stared on the subway,
Called us starry-eyed without a trace of irony.
Back in the day when you made me happier
Than something I don’t even have a metaphor for,
Just happy. Happy needs no metaphors.

I still check my reflection every once in a while
Never know if we’ll collide again anyway,
Best to be prepared but instead I
Drift aimfully towards a catacomb of eyelash wishes
And equally corny ******* I never believed in,
Still don’t,

It was getting at us, though,

Rubbing sandy fists down to the core
Instead of holding hands
Crunchy apple shell
Skin friction,
Bite the seed,
1,000 angry pomegranate teeth,
Chapped lips like crustacean shells,
Aligned like eye-freckles
Me looking like an unused punching bag,
You somewhere off in the distance,
A fading marble of plasticine light
On my wavering horizon.

Because yeah, you broke my ******* heart
You were novacane cruel and selfish
And so immature it stunned me
But you also taped it back into my chest
On the day we met so I guess we’re even.

It’s funny, already I can’t quite remember your voice,
the shape of my name in your mouth,
how you laughed,
but every word  you ever said
is still carved onto the back of my hand
like a roadmap towards all the ways
you showed me how to love myself.

Still rubbing them away with your scalding riptide,
All those words you said about forever,
Now just shackles,
So gladly did I submit to yours,
I still hate those ornery devices
Even now when,
They’re curled at my feet
Like broken wings.
Aggie Fredette Oct 2013
Rant and rant away in my head
They slit my arm until it bled
Blurry images stir and wake
Why does it all feel so fake?

Red ribbons stream across the sky
Memories of once known times collide
The smell and heat of burning wood
The flash of eyes under a hood

Quick and aimfully I walk with bare feet
The smell and taste of rotting meat
The crackling notes of the red fire
The voices of the crowd reach higher

Past the guards and up the stairs
On the back of my neck stand up the hairs
Run my hands along the wall of stone
My footsteps quiet, I'm all alone

The shiver down my spine runs deep
But in my shallow breath I keep
As I get closer to the source
The truth and reason of this discord

With bated breath I creep along
I faintly hear the notes of the song
The song of the ruler and the king
I know in my heart I cannot let him win

I've been through much to reach this place
Trials, battles, loss, blood, and heartache
And when I meet him I shall merely utter the quote
Quietly, before sending an arrow through his throat

But here I am now, beaten and worn
My forehead bleeding and my clothing torn
Held as prisoner in this dark cold cell
It is my epitome of a living hell

Finally decide to just lie on the floor
Curled up next to the crack in the door
From where I hear the quiet voices
Made up of whispers and of choices

How to escape this I place I do not know
I must escape before in sets the snow
But as my eyes close and my breath gently leaves
My heart becomes still, it no longer grieves

For though I've had troubles and tribulations
I have come to a greater realization
That although I could not fulfill this quest I took
It does not matter, for this is all merely a book.
What if characters somehow realized they were merely that, a character in a book? Some characters seem completely and utterly real to us, yet we can decide to close a book half way through and for us their story would never be finish. To me, characters are immortal, for we can go back and visit them whenever we please. But what if characters died when we forgot about them, or when we stopped reading about them? As a writer and book lover these questions are always on my mind.

— The End —