"pruny" poems
It used to be that my favorite part of baths were the whirlpool
That twisting tornado of water
Spiraling out of control as the dirt and soap disappeared
Into the darkness
But what if instead of water and dirt
It was our life?
What then, would be draining?
Emotions, and youth
Decisions and mistakes.
Memories all swirling away into nothing.
That must be what if feels like to get old.
As the last drops of warm water escape
Leaving only the cool air on our wet pruny skin.
Thank goodness for soft comfy towels.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
queen of hearts
the sun sets on her tongue
the night sinks into her eyes
king of spades
his mouth brings a myriad of painful pleasures
his hands can hold the world
grasp her gauzy waist
whisper swirls of diamonds that will encircle the heart and render it frozen and glowing
slide your hand under his skin
weave your milky way through his veins and render them fiery and frightening
queen of diamonds
she speaks only in retributive tongues
she loves desperately
the clouds behind her lips are gathering in a storm
king of clubs
he speaks only in the language of power
he loves fiercely
his garden is thirsting for rain
swim in rapturous glaze of mind
experience this plethora of feeling
let your fingers get pruny and divine the message inside the lines
sink your teeth into a stalactite heart, you’ll find your mind explodes with colours- a death worth the last image that consumes you before you’re gone.
the rings of saturn are chandelier crowns and strawberry throats; so close but never touching.
let the lightjuice drip down your spine as you contemplate the reasons you’re still on earth
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 12:31 PM UTC
Sand water and sky was all I could see,
As I dipped into the big blue sea
My toes could feel the comfort of the beady sand,
While the salty water ran through my coarse hands.
The saltwater rushing in,
Wave after wave after wave,
My pruny feet sinking in,
Wave after wave after wave.
Inhaling the damp, fishy scent
Absorbing the mild golden rays of the sun,
Hearing the lulling waves disappearing onto the shore,
The journey of the high tide has now begun.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 8:38 AM UTC
I’m barely keeping my head above water
Other people
Made it look so easy
To backstroke through their days
With nothing to worry about
Except pruny fingertips
And what swimsuit to wear
It looked easy
Only after I jumped in
Did I realize that
I wasn’t born to swim
I wasn’t born with the ability to float
I wasn’t born with the talent to tread
Maybe I’m just dense
With a brain full of blanks
And a stomach full of stones
I’m guaranteed lungs full of liquid
To drag me down
To make every moment a living hell
I was born to sink
I often think of quitting
Letting the ocean consume me
Swallow me whole
As the waves seem to be
The only things
That ever wanted me
I’m barely keeping my head below water.
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 5:08 PM UTC
I watch her watch herself,
pale, slender fingers pressed against her flat stomach.
She gives an uncertain sigh as she turns this way and that,
twirling a lock of hair in her pale, slender fingers
and trying to look disinterested in her own reflection.
She reaches into a tiny purse, eventually,
and pulls out a tube of mascara.
Her eyes widen to marbles as she teeters close to the mirror,
applying her armor stroke
by stroke
by stroke.
She knows that I am watching her now (I wobble hazily in the mirror),
so I look away for a moment,
and by the time my eyes dart back to hers, her eyelashes flutter pitch black
Like ink spilling from a fountain pen.
I can tell she’s still looking at her stomach
And she can tell I’m still looking at her,
so she murmurs something like acknowledgement
and brushes past me.
Watching her walk away feels wrong, so I look down at my hands instead,
red and pruny
from the hot water seeping down the drain.
Jan 31, 2024
Jan 31, 2024 at 1:24 PM UTC
You're probably laying on your back staring at your inviting ceiling, slightly transparent,
Swirling together your collected pool of hopes and dreams
Just like me
At this very moment.
You are listening to indie music,
And so am I.
Sometimes I imagine we are listening to the same song simultaneously
So we can think the same things together,
Disregarding the time zone difference.
I just wanted to tell you that I would have walked across the gym with you at graduation,
You would have cried with me,
We would have hugged and held hands,
And we would have celebrated until our eyelids puffed and our hands became pruny
From our laughter infused tears.
We would have drank soda and not beer after the ceremony,
Because we never needed anything but ourselves, and maybe a camera, to have fun.
We would have changed out of dresses into sweatpants and flip flops, because we never needed to impress each other.
We would have driven in my car and screamed out the windows
Until someone called the cops and we ran away into my bedroom for safety.
My mother would have had a hug waiting for you,
A cake for us,
And a smile for eternity.
We would have made our way upstairs
To lay on the cheep Home Depot carpet and stair at my own ceiling, just as inviting as yours,
Counting the stars through the drywall we pretend to be invisible.
In the background,
Distanced enough for thoughts to still process,
A playlist of us beats in a fuzzy muffle from the dying iPod dock,
The kind of music you can't help but get high from.
We would talk of our plans and our futures and pretend they weren't separate,
Dreaming of sky scraping homes and earth-bounding trips to Asia and Europe,
Finding our destinies and origins here and there,
Then coming together to share our experiences.
And when things get too sad we would just enjoy the music and remember everything we had, everything we have, and everything we will lose.
I guess what I'm trying to say is listening to good music makes me miss you more than my poetry can begin to express,
And I'm so selfish for wishing you never left me,
Because I know you're happy there and I'm happy here without you,
But I'd be happier if we were listening to music under the same invisible ceiling.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
When i was younger,
I would take baths...
The purpose was to get clean,
But my purpose was to just feel...
My purpose was to see...
My purpose was to feel free...
I bathed the all-day smells away,
I bathed my ****** wounds,
I would lay back & close my eyes.
If i could sleep in the water,
I would...
Fingers had gotten pruny,
It showed me i been in for too long .
I imagined myself swimming,
The ocean was the clearest blue.
Warning signs of when you need to get out..
The younger days were the best...
Bathing with demons now,
They're not friendly...
I wash up with the richest soap,
But I'm still *****
Insides spits hell,
Skin feels heavenly...
He is talking to me through a glass..
I'm trying to listen,
I sit...
I sit in a chair at the bottom of the sea,
I see....
I see in the dreams...
Chained by the feet,
Eyes closed shut,
Swimming,
Wherever my mind leads me...
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 6:39 PM UTC
Shouldn't be doing this
Super hungry
Won't have lunch
Until I go home
In two hours
My hands a pruny and withered
Like raisins
From doing the dishes
And praying for those
Desperate enough
To come into my mjnd
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC