Meatsuit poems on Hello Poetry

Icarus Kirk May 2013

the clock is ticking on the mantlepiece and the house is empty and cold
it is dark, and the dogs are barking and i can't think, oh god, i can't think, because the world is imploding and the clock has stopped ticking and
it has been silent for a while now
there is no reason to panic, I tell myself, no reason at all
but this is a lie and while it might help me breathe better,
it won't put the bullet back inside the gun
it won't force the words back down my throat,
or put the glass on the floor back together
the walls are on fire and the glass is sizzling, and red-hot
the smell of blood - yours, probably - is thick and strong and metallic
the walls are on fire and i can't think, can't even breathe, because the smell of blood is,
quite frankly, overwhelming.
and then i blink and i'm back here, in the kitchen,
and you're staring at me like i'm something interesting,
like i'm not a worthless scrap that the dog just brought in,
but i can tell something's still wrong because you're talking but the words
don't quite register
and then everything comes spinning back to earth, and you're still talking
only i can hear you now
and you're telling me that it's not okay, it's not right, you've had enough and you're leaving now
and it only takes me a moment to realize
that the whole world is currently wearing a plaid button-down and old jeans with
a hole in one of the knees
that the whole world smells like apples and laundry soap
it only takes me a moment to realize that the whole world resides in a three pound brain piloting
rather attractive meatsuit
it only takes me a moment to realize that the whole world is walking out the door
and that he probably isn't coming back

Ayla Mae Oct 2018

My Daddy Died A Long Time Ago

It's a shame, I think.
You know, the man whose last name I wear,
Like and itchy sweater,
Is still here, still breathing,
Still stirring up old memories.
That man used to be my daddy.
Now he's a stranger wearing my daddy's clothes,
Wearing my daddy's face, wearing my daddy's cologne,
And driving my daddy's car.
My daddy passed away a long time ago,
Left me with an emotionless clone of him
And a pocket full of hope.
My daddy has been gone for what feels like ages.
This impostor pretends to care, pretends to be the man that raised me,
Pretends to be my favorite person, pretends to know me better than I know myself,
And what's worse, pretends **** is just something you do in your spare time
But when you lose your job, all you have is spare time.

My daddy always told me not to be sad when he died
Because he knew he'd die doing something he loves,
But what could he loved so much that is was more appealing than his only daughter.
How could he not know that by dying this way,
There'd be no spirit to stay with me,
No body for me to cremate the way he wanted.
How could he not know that I needed him to stay
So I could practice all of the things he taught me?
How could he not know that every little girl needs her daddy,
not someone wearing his skin,
not fond memories and fairy tales

My daddy died a long, long time ago.
If I had known better then, I would have payed attention
Enough to be able to to have a time of death or even a date
At the memorial service I'll never get to have.
The man who wears my daddy's meatsuit has done so much damage
That no one stops to consider this man isn't my daddy at all.

Don't they all know he's dead?

— The End —