"carsick" poems
our conversations are all in blue.
i try not to mind it,
like i try not to mind the hair falling out of my scalp.
you're just busy being unattached to me.
i make excuses for you as easy as i double text.
they flood my head like mantras,
but not the kind that make you feel calm or loved.
it's more like telling yourself you won't throw up after the twisty roads up the mountain.
but i want to see the view with you.
so i keep sending you blue paragraphs filled with 'sorry's and 'i love you's.
you send the same grey 'i love you, too's.
and we call it communication.
i'm the driver and the passenger
the carsick kid trying not to throw up and the toddler asking over and over if we're there yet.
but i want to see the view with you.
would it hurt to send a grey paragraph? or ask me,
in your best whine,
if we are at the top yet?
throw up in my lap. drive me crazy.
ask me for the aux cord and i'll give it to you.
i'm done listening to this album on repeat.
i want to hold your hand without worrying if your fingers are numb and you just don't want to hurt my feelings.
this car needs more you.
and i don't mean the you dressed in grey half messages that you probably rewrote three times.
i need the you that talked about faking our deaths together
like it was the only part of life worth living.
wearing that laugh you always say is too loud,
but really it sounds like music.
i like my music loud and angry.
and ****** at your parents for being expired versions of themselves, always expecting you to be organic.
i need that you like i need a vice.
because that's who i want to see the view with.
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 3:13 AM UTC
Driving through time,
Reflecting on memories
The flashbacks come
In a spiral of streets
All it takes is a whiff
Of sweet salty air,
To think of that day on the beach,
When love was in the air
Driving through time,
I think of you, It's
Enough to make
Me carsick.
2/11/14
(a.f.c)
Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 12:47 PM UTC
falling out of love was easy.
all you had to do was make a call,
break a heart,
find someone new.
i guess that’s only if you fall out at all. i guess i'm still waiting for that.
i've been waiting for a while.
longer than it feels and shorter than I tell myself
i have a fear that i’ll be waiting to fall out of love with you when i have canyons in my face from age and broken legs from climbing up this mountain.
you can't tell people that your heart isn't the only thing broken.
bedsides from just being damaged goods, they've heard all your songs before. they're tired of it. "move on, change the station please, this melody is making me carsick. you've had your time to mourn."
everyone had their fair share of breaking. nobody cares.
and no one cares about poetry. no one cares that a poet cries when they think about daffodils or that they feel physical pain in their chest when they think about what wasn't meant to be but it happened anyway.
a poet writes for themselves, and how selfish is that? they consider others only when their chest stops hurting and expectations boil in their brain.
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 11:12 PM UTC
Passing by
One by one
Stopping and starting
Like my heart at your touch
All this jerking around
Has made me carsick
And I feel uneasy
Like when you gaze at me
I need to get out
I need fresh air
But I'm still on the highway
Breathing the same hyperventilation
Don't talk for me too long
Or I'll get sick again
And I'll have to leave you once more
Because I'm not used to this constant thumping sensation in my chest
The cars keep passing by
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 8:30 PM UTC
Repackaged, see the sentiment sculpted in the semblance of a seraphim with second skin,
I'm reckoning,
Respecting artistry is the energy in empathy,
Interdigitating like gloves to fingers,
Clutching the doorknob,
Twisting to a time that was once there, felt by a someone,
A freethinking carbon unit,
Carved by cards dealt and carsick movements,
This perfect person; a testament to diverging from automation,
A someone, Doing SOMETHING, somewhere,
Forging from thoughts to creation.
I admire you as a maker of things,
There are no mistakes, every moment is golden - don't flinch
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 3:02 AM UTC
I was listening to Kings of Leon
trapped on the bus for 2 hours
between a lady who had fallen asleep
and endless beech forest skimming past the window
green green grey green green grey,
until we broke through into farmland
past the national park sign
(ka kite ano ko Te Waiponamu),
and a shock of yellow broom flowers
waved us onwards past the lambs
and streams idling through the paddock.
40 minutes from home
it's stuffy and I'm carsick and hungry,
but it's Spring,
the sun's out and I'm just happy to be here.
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 4:22 AM UTC
Every single second it’s another parsec.
I know I’m a wreck, but the least you could do is visit.
I’ll grab you a map, so long as you don’t look at the distance.
I promise you won’t miss it. What’s another car trip?
No, you won’t get carsick. It’ll be but a minute.
Plus I got a plane, so it’s nothing but a thing.
What do you say? Wanna be my Sunday?
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 8:52 AM UTC
Tap, tap
at the door,
the news
brought home…
carsick
journey,
no map
no compass…
just a face…
a face in
the crowd,
forever
impassive.
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 3:29 AM UTC