I see pictures of us

At a party
At a friend's marriage
At a concert
On the sand
On a cruise
In a tent
On my bed
On your bed
Under a tree
Under a waterfall
On a high rock
In cold water
On my balcony
In your car
In my dad's car
At an old ruin

Eating Balila
Running on pebbles
My lips on your cheek
My lips on your lips
Our eyes closed
Holding flowers
Drinking wine in a bottle of water
Naked
Dancing in the sea
Riding your back
Wearing your sunglasses
Looking at me sleeping
Looking at you looking at me
Splashing me with water
Running after you
Wearing your jacket

That is all I have
Pictures of us
Where you always reside
Where I can always be with you.



- LynnAA

The sun would always come out a little after

                                                                        the mind massacre
                                                                          
                                                                               - follow the monsters-

            i fancy lying on the
hard floor
because it is the only place
where the train of vertebrates in
my spine
can set in its rails.  


                                                               i am a void
                                                               bleeding out oxidised civilisation
                  -holes in my head-
                                                                in a world where colours
                                                                are just fabricated memoirs
                                                                of porcelain filmstrips.
                                                                            

i fear that i am becoming anorexic:
my brain is splattered onto
a tiny plate
                                            -emaciated-
where i maliciously
pick out the
soft and pretty
bits.


My tongue is cancerous,
segregating words into
Pinks' and greys'.        
                                                                                
                                                             my heart has malformed into      
                                                             an ugly blister
                                       -swollen-
                                                              milking saps
                                                              of dismal yesterdays.        

i'm swimming
alone
in an acid bath
of bleach and ice.                                            

                                                      can't find the light
-the light-
                                                       beneath the glass
                                                                                              -the night-
                                                       of the
-decaying-
                                                       chandelier.

Of all the things I am
I am not insane.

The reservoir is rising
And I'm sweating in my
Dress and white sneakers
And the sky is turning gray.

At least there are breezes
By the lake, although
I had a breakdown in the car
When Henry wasn't real.

Lele left me for Larry
And I'm struggling to write
Your prose as my own
Poem thoughts.

If it rains on the
Water I will never
Forgive the person who built
The glass cafe.

All the plastic communion cups in my purse
Cracked.

Prop my feet up on the dash
Make another societal
Faux pas and take one last sip of
Chandelier staircase filmstrips.

This kayak of mine
Has tipped.

In addicted evening
I crawl
on my knees,
The caps wearing away,
my eyes burn retinal filmstrips
every time I
Am reminded.
Hug me please, warm
green night

Arrive with your purple tents and
drive stakes through
the mid-October arch.
The spires aching in wingtipped sky
That awful afternoon,
That God given night,
The wonderful hours left alone
And minutes visited together.
In a statement said simply,
I guess it was worth it.