"sneered" poems
fall was in the air and it was a very dreary october day. the halls of the old victorian house had been filled with new arivals and lots of noise.
"i can barely hear myself think." Madison sneered, a cigarette in her hand as she stood next to zoey and nan in the hallway. looking at the new girls with disguist. "and none of these new ******* better step on my toes. this isnt ******* hogwarts." she rolled her eyes. "hogwarts." zoey laughed, making nan laugh aswell. "if this were hogwarts, you would be draco malfoy" nan joked. "hardy har har." Madison snickered. "and you would be harry potters fat cousin because your ugly and nobody loves you." madison smiled. "well, i think it's great." zoey said cheerfully. "all of these girls would feel lost and alone and now they have somewhere to belong.". "you would say that." Madison rolled her eyes. suddenly a slightly younger girl with big green eyes and long brown hair and freckles rushed up to the three of them with a gleam in her eye. "oh my god it is you! you're madison montgomery!" the girl explained. " i love you! will you sign my back pack?" the girl turned around and Madison pulled a pink highlighter out of the side of her floral backpack. her face lit up as she wrote her name on the backpack making zoey and nan smile aswell. "thank you! thank you! thank you! you're my idol." the girl blushed. "my name is Cassie motts, i've seen all of your movies, i love you! i love you! i love you!" the girl giggled. "alright.." Madison had been taken back a step. "have a great day you little ****** she smiled, a look of confusion hung upon her face. "thank you.. you dont know how much this means to me." the girl explained cheerfully and walked away. "well ladies it looks like we're the head honchoes around this **** show." Madison sighed, still slightly smiling. "i was always the head honchoe." nan replied. "yeah, okay, right." zoey rolled her eyes and smiled at nan as the three made there way down the hall together.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
You said you're innocent
and that all was just coincidence
I sneered "Oh, such confidence.."
I feigned my courage
but how could I manage
to taste this cold spoilt porridge?
Why does it hurt more when you say this?
Why does your tears feel like acid on my skin?
Do you see these wounds?
They never healed
You scratched my scars
All those times you pleaded
You twisted the knife you once stabbed
You drilled your nails as I watch it jarred to my flesh
And what else? Drenched them with brine of memories
But where were you all those years?
When this girl cried buckets
Drowned with her own tears?
How I wish
You can put her arms back to their sockets
Maybe then
She will forget how you made her feel
And once again
Hold you like everything was just a dream.
-Twist The Knife, Margaret Austin Go
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 5:18 AM UTC
My grandparent's house
ten-kid-large and sinking
on the corners of remembrance
Remodeled now, to
...tenements
Honeycomb
...the remnants
Irish immigrant and Scottish orphan's child
She sang on the ferry
He fell in love
"The rest is the history of us...."
Wide
as the Connecticut River, grieving--
in their sunset....
________________
This-- chair
is his
I am afraid of it-- of his learning
of the shiny badge pinned to his coat
of his dying...
Golden leather of it
soothes
his memory--
of another continent
of the once warmth-- of a distant hearth
so darkened now--
where his head once rested
...his hands
and,
I fear--
his mind....
I will not sit in it
as if he will come back, to take his place
I am afraid of him--
with his chair--
all worshipful and empty
like a high place, abandoned
to the heart attack
not for grandchild play
Seat of Authority
still stamped
beside the standing cold--
brass ashtray
Pipe smoke imagines itself
against the ceiling in the words
of Yates and Milton
He read to them
and somehow--
Paradise is Lost....
_______________
This house is cold now-- even in the summer-- cold
Worn as only large families wear
The War
of waiting shadows
--four brothers who were spared
Anna Mae, in charge, too young,
worries in abrupt dark
of dinning room
Her face, haunted--
an archway-- ever empty
by the large and ghostly table
covered by its web of lace--
a bridal veil
of Catholic impossibility...
Anna Mae, held hostage by her thoughts
of darling, Sean...
Aunt Lil's “breakdown”
with cigarette and thorazine
quaking quiet in her corner
Aunt Nell,
as blind as ******** hell
ironing, darning
with threads that thatch
the wounded socks
Holds it all together, scolding--
Brought the welcomed jelly donuts
sneered as Yankees clobbered Boston
all-- while drinking yellow ale
Uncle Eddie-- laughing hoarsely
cracks nuts over a wooden bowl
Sep 19, 2017
Sep 19, 2017 at 10:52 PM UTC
You are going to find yourself
Hating everyone.
And it should come as no surprise
That one day you'll pick up smoking
Because that fat ***** you fell for
Thought you looked **** doing it.
Men will crave your lips
Not for kisses but for ********
And you will have to battle them
On every insistence.
You will sleep with a teddy bear,
Human-sized
Well into adulthood
Because there will be nights
That you are so disconnected from the world
That you feel as though you are floating.
You will be sneered at
By mental hospital nurses
At the age of sixteen
As you visit your boyfriend
For your first date
In Good Samaritan hospital.
They will see your youth
And rage inside.
You will waste yourself.
You will die and redeem
Within yourself.
You will fall in love
With a man much older than you
And suddenly
Thirty won't seem
So old at all.
Thirty will seem
Like a world your old soul
Could get lost in.
And you will.
And it will be wonderful.
You will become paranoid.
Walking to church at midnight
With the love of your life,
You will constantly
Be looking over your shoulder.
You will forever
Be looking over your shoulder.
This will become
A necessary hobby.
You will tear down your Beatles posters
And replace them with Wes Anderson ones
Shamelessly.
You will come to a point
Where you hate yourself
In a most incomprehensible way
But you will write a poem
And you will be paid for it
And you will pay your cell phone bill with the money
And you will be successful.
You will have your escape plan
But you will never use it.
You will never need to.
His charm and his wit
And the way his eyes sparkle when he sees you
Will keep you rooted
Even when you are ready
To book it.
You'll be subpoenaed
And you will hate it
And ***** over it
And you will have to stand trial
But life is a trial
And you will win.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 2:13 AM UTC
I opened an email today. I was told of how I must look "Good" in order to be "Taken Seriously" or "If People wish to Even Take You At All."
Like David Copperfield, The Caged Tiger, and The Joker.
Placed in "One Big Finale." The "Entertainment" of this "Show" had started.
The Joker was not like all the rest. He became evil by being outcast,since youth, into adulthood; for scars that were not of his own doing.
He decided to "Pay Back" The "Normals" in one big "Contest to Win The right To Live and Not for the Tiger to have your "Pretty Little Faces to Maw."
David Copperfield thought he could Escape and to "Save everyone's day" "From the scared up ugly which had made "His own choice to become Evil."
As the judges took their seats, the contest was about to begin.
A puff of smoke, some mirrored tricks, and a flashed destraction and David thought he was "Home Free."
Grabbing for the form in the clouds he thought was the "Joker," he grasped for the capture.
"Poor Magic Boy!" - The Joker sneered as he took his place at the start. To grab some finally deserved spot light and a chance to **** an "Animal with Color that isn't Very Hard to Use for David's Adventures."
Whipping at the beast and working in a wooden chair, finally the Tiger Spoke Out.
"Why must you Human's Use me as a prop? A
Defined Addition as People's Property?"
"Why So Serious? You've got your fame, as Magic Boy's Lackey!"
Swiping the Joker to the ground with one strong whip of his front left paw, he knocked out the Joker, but, he never killed him.
Busting out the door, running for the Jungle.
Words were understood as the "Prop Animal" ran for his freedom.
"What makes me different, Makes Me Strong. I survive not only because of my 'Animal Survival Instincts,' however, the faith and determination to fight for my rights to be true to who and what I am and to be free."
"Free to rule My Own Earned thrown in my Rule in my very own Kingdom."
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 10:00 PM UTC
you said i had no talent:
that models have no rap.
i tried to sing Sinatra,
you sneered and that was that.
at least i went down swinging,
so what it was a miss?
Community Theater Director:
why offer a diss?
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 9:01 AM UTC
She strolled along the narrow pathway through
the park. Her soft skirt flitting in the breeze,
her long legs smooth and pampered, sandaled feet
took mellow steps under the Springtime sun.
She caught the eye of Fred, who from his book
rose up bespectacled and drank the scene
of one young beauty carried by the breeze,
and thanked the Lord for all His wondrous things.
She noticed that he noticed and she sneered,
disdainfully and crushed him with the lids
of scornful eyes that closed upon his face,
and cursed the womb that birthed this pervert live.
She caught the eye of Tom, whose magazine
dropped to the bench from fingers preening hair,
his lion's gaze devouring this gazelle,
and she took notice of his notice there.
She threw back hair and turned to meet his gaze
with sideways glance, a wink, and half pursed lips,
amazed a stroll from bench to bench could find
a pervert and a stud so side by side.
Both men came to the park to sit and read,
and read indeed, then both, like men, did do
what men so do, and neither differed there,
yet one was deemed a pervert, one a stud.
(C)2014, Christos Rigakos
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC
*deep sigh
A tear falls from his eye
"Good bye"
Until next time.
Where there's no time.
And yet all time, time to stand up!!!
And believe!
Then with this, you will receive
All the tools to achieve
Your Holymasterpeace
Your hold is Dastardly
The boldest pastor speaks,
Forth from-with-which we dabble in
Spirits blasphemous
Capture this...
Rapture the aperture
My God is a carpenter
Building a kingdom here
Inside of this atmosphere
Clearly you too are here.
Heard
& really revered
Didn't revert to the curse
Sneered on his belly from in the dirt
Your heel,
shut him up.
So Father fill me up!
So I can "go..."
I'm
Omw
I'm just moving slow...
And so the story goes
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC
And just as I had thought all my problems were solved
He dropped me
The smile fades from my face
And that glistening happiness leaves my eye
I was wrong
Laying there with my face in the sand I deal with the pain
What else is new?
Bitter thoughts returned, “I told you so” they sneered
I wipe the blood from my hands and the sand from my eyes
And re-organize my thoughts
How could I have been so careless?
He had a hungry heart but an empty mind
But all I saw was someone willing to hold me.
Guess this place really was just a fantasy told,
To those stupid enough to believe it
I walk alone along the water’s edge and throw stones
As tears start to burn my face and cloud my vision
Once again I find myself laying in the sand thinking, looking, wandering
A heavy sigh takes away the burden of my past love
As I tell my story to the ocean
It sways and crashes as usual
I laugh at myself for expecting a response
No one hears me anymore
So I try again this time talking to the moon
As I finish telling my tale
He hides his face away behind the clouds leaving me in the dark
Again I laugh
No one cares
But saying what has happened, hearing myself talk
Helps ease the pain
I hear the sound of quick feet behind me as yet another boy approaches me
In my unstable mood I tell him everything
Finally what I’ve been waiting for,
Pity, sorrow, someone else who can relate and give me security
As he goes to wipe the tears from my eyes I apologize
And start running
Leaving him in the same pain I'm feeling
I'm sorry but it’s too soon to start again
As I deal with the guilt of causing someone else pain
I start a journey
I realize I’m not ready to be on the beach
And I must **** up my pride and return
To the place I left, in my haste to get here
I was wrong
I was blind
I come through the front door expecting hatred and get hugged
I was loved
Why would I throw that away?
I cry at my lack of inexperience
And lock myself away in my ocean of a room
Return to the thoughts
Return to the memories I tried to run from
And embrace them
Look for the universal meaning for their occurrence
Then I sleep
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 4:13 PM UTC
It was not when temptation came,
Swiftly and blastingly as flame,
And seared me white with burning scars;
When I stood up for age-long wars
And held the very Fiend at grips;
When all my mutinous body rose
To range itself beside my foes,
And, like a greyhound in the slips,
The Beast that dwells within me roared,
Lunging and straining at his cord. . . .
For all the blusterings of Hell,
It was not then I slipped and fell;
For all the storm, for all the hate,
I kept my soul inviolate!
But when the fight was fought and won,
And there was Peace as still as Death
On everything beneath the sun.
Just as I started to draw breath,
And yawn, and stretch, and pat myself,
-- The grass began to whisper things --
And every tree became an elf,
That grinned and chuckled counsellings:
Birds, beasts, one thing alone they said,
Beating and dinning at my head.
I could not fly. I could not shun it.
Slimily twisting, slow and blind,
It crept and crept into my mind.
Whispered and shouted, sneered and laughed,
Screamed out until my brain was daft. . . .
One snaky word, "What if you'd done it?"
And I began to think . . .
Ah, well,
What matter how I slipped and fell?
Or you, you gutter-searcher say!
Tell where you found me yesterday!
2k
A woman traipsed with the whole company of ballet;
She was but only a soloist, a mere sujet.
Her companions wore clothes for traveling hard,
But our sujet, she dressed in dancing shoes and leotard.
Her head was upturned and her nose pointed
High, as if by a great saint she had been anointed.
With ease she stretched into each dainty pose
But no other ballerina saw the bandages wrapped around her toes,
Which she had to replace every other hour;
Seeing her bleeding sores did often make her cower.
To the other ballerinas she was dismissive and ****
But her oft-clenched fists belied the faltering of her heart.
Her chestnut hair she had dyed golden like the rest
And her curves became thin so she would dance her very best;
She had hidden herself inside ‘till her olive skin turned pale,
Believing if she fit in, at her craft she never could fail.
Instead of breaking her fast or supping at night
She practiced her art and took nary a bite.
The ballet troupe sneered while the sujet put on her airs
Yet I know she wept at the ice hardened in their stares.
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 9:08 PM UTC
271
A solemn thing—it was—I said—
A woman—white—to be—
And wear—if God should count me fit—
Her blameless mystery—
A hallowed thing—to drop a life
Into the purple well—
Too plummetless—that it return—
Eternity—until—
I pondered how the bliss would look—
And would it feel as big—
When I could take it in my hand—
As hovering—seen—through fog—
And then—the size of this “small” life—
The Sages—call it small—
Swelled—like Horizons—in my vest—
And I sneered—softly—”small”!
1.8k
"Forever?" is too long;
"Love me?" is too difficult;
"Stay?" is too needy;
"Hold me?" is too awkward...
Some how my questions are always wrong,
I just want to regain the love that I once felt;
But I'm left with broken bones and broken heart on the ground pleading,
And he dusts himself off, walking away telling me to "keep going onward."
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 8:54 PM UTC
**He clenched it tightly
He'd only used it once
"You have to pull the trigger first son, and BANG BANG BANG!
You can **** anything!"
With intense intent on his mind
His verge for vengeance grew within, now it's time
To show the bullies how he feels**
*He glared at them with and intensity
of a malicious lion gazing at prey.
They stared at him back,
paralyzed and gaping,
surprised, scared, shivering at the sudden ominous
cloud around this figure that once shook with
the demons that clawed at his being every minute of the day.*
**Teachers deigned to his prowess
Consoling him not to shoot
He glanced at that kid who kicked him, sneered at how stupid he is.
He screamed with angst, blood streaming though his fingers.
Trickled to pull the trigger, this is now or never.**
*Suddenly,
a whimper. He glances away quickly to see
his little sister's eyes swim with murky waters.
"danny..."
He looks away.
Then, shoots.
one,
two,
three,
four,
five.
He smiles,
watches the chaos erupt the way his mind does every night,
stares at the crimson velvet beginning to crawl out of the bodies as the ragdolls crowed with terror of the dead,
ghastly large eyes , desperately hollow,
wanting only the warmth escaping.*
**He feels alive, for the first time he's the fire to ignite the dark
Burning everything within his grasp,
Dictating any norm in his way.
The silence preaching him, Feeling remorse of that obscure stance.
He ruptured every enmity that denotes innocence. Screaming, "WHY DO I STILL FEEL SO ******* EMPTY!!??"**
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
I DON'T know how he came,
shambling, dark, and strong.
He stood in the city and told men:
My people are fools, my people are young and strong, my people must learn, my people are terrible workers and fighters.
Always he kept on asking: Where did that blood come from?
They said: You for the fool killer, you for the ***** hatch and a necktie party.
They hauled him into jail.
They sneered at him and spit on him,
And he wrecked their jails,
Singing, "God **** your jails,"
And when he was most in jail
Crummy among the crazy in the dark
Then he was most of all out of jail
Shambling, dark, and strong,
Always asking: Where did that blood come from?
They laid hands on him
And the fool killers had a laugh
And the necktie party was a go, by God.
They laid hands on him and he was a goner.
They hammered him to pieces and he stood up.
They buried him and he walked out of the grave, by God,
Asking again: Where did that blood come from?
1.7k
A poem you’ve never heard
Baby’s friend said she was fat so
She stripped it off like onion skins
Cigarettes took a layer
Aderol the next
A bout with bulimia the final
She was bony and skinny and Baby’s friend
Said she looked good
But her clothes hung like bags
Her muscles felt like string chesese
*** wasn’t even fun because her bones
Bit like iron
So Baby put on weight
Like comfy sweaters
A superhero’s cape
Her friend sneered and snorted
But Baby stopped caring and in the end
She was *****
She was bold
She was beautiful
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
A lizard came by to say hi,
I could see it posing on my ceiling
as if it dropped by only to tease me
because I have never left the house
unless to work.
What should I leave the house without meeting you?
Moving its tail nonchalantly,
it seemed to know that I was staring at it.
As the night went by, one grew into dozens,
and a group of lizards formed an alliance to mock my very existence.
Tormenting lizards sneered at me so graciously.
So voiceless in silence.
Sep 29, 2022
Sep 29, 2022 at 9:59 AM UTC
Up and over the barbed wire gate
Crept a dreadful Mr. Despair
To meet a horrible Mr. Hate
Who was impatiently waiting there
The dark alley that they had chosen
Was well off the beaten path
But it wasn’t long they heard approaching
A reckless Mr. Wrath
He greeted them with a grunt
A courtesy, for they’d never met
Then up from a steamy sewer
Rose a rueful Mr. Regret
He hardly nodded his heavy head
On his face a grumpy grimace
And so there they festered
Awaiting their last accomplice
Then out from a ***** dumpster
Creeping quite quietly
Fell the gang’s last felon
An awkward Mr. Anxiety
So there they plotted to pillage
In that abandoned alley
That lovely little town
Then called Vulnerable Valley
There they consorted, concocting
To bring the town nothing but gloom
They snickered, spat and sneered
Oh, the impending doom
Suddenly all peered upward
As a light shone through a window above
Their riotous rebellion had roused
A light-hearted Mr. Love
“Top of the mornin’ down there
Dandy weather wouldn’t ye say?”
To which there was no rebuttal
To sewers and shadows
The creeps had crept
To fraternize another day
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 8:04 AM UTC
621
I asked no other thing—
No other—was denied—
I offered Being—for it—
The Mighty Merchant sneered—
Brazil? He twirled a Button—
Without a glance my way—
“But—Madam—is there nothing else—
That We can show—Today?”
1.5k
The unhappy ****** sneered:
*Take your pants
And jacket off.*
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
Dear two year old me,
You've been walking for a year now,
And oh! The places you'll go!
The people you'll see, and love, and hurt.
This is your superhero's backstory, you'll see.
Dear four year old me,
I'm so proud of you,
Losing yourself in books already,
Keep your smile ready, darling,
It's going to be rough for a while.
Dear six year old me,
Those kids who threw pine cones
Called you ugly at the bus stop
And made you run home in tears,
Baby Girl, they don't matter.
Dear eight year old me,
That teacher who sneered "just like your mom"
like a barbed insult and a doomed future
was just a mean confused white lady,
Who never even tried to get to know you or your wonderful mother.
Dear ten year old me,
Playground marriages were just for show
Everyone else got remarried day by day
You only had eyes for one, but that's okay
Your loyalty will bring you happiness, one day.
Dear twelve year old me,
You really are too young to date,
and I know everyone else is doing it,
but none of them last, baby girl,
waiting is totally okay.
Dear fourteen year old me,
You've been in love for so long,
It's really just like breathing, isn't it?
But you're too young to know what toxic is
Don't worry, *** you'll be so much better.
Dear sixteen year old me,
It hurts. I know it hurts. It hurts so much.
You'll teach yourself to keep busy day by day
But honey your lungs only burn because you've been
Breathing smoke for so long fresh oxygen tastes poisonous.
Dear eighteen year old me,
You'd think me soft, now. Emotional. Weak.
But crying is okay, sweet one, wanting hugs is okay
Feeling used is okay. Wanting love is okay.
It's going to be okay.
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 11:29 AM UTC
The ink crawled down my throat,
Mixing with the blood,
Without a boat.
They sneered at the dare,
Cruel friends,
Open-mouthed stare.
A fire kindled deep within,
They still laughed,
My eyes watered,feelling a sting.
Foam at my mouth,
Stupid urge to pout.
Distracting the feeling of fall,
Shouts all around.
Abhorrent playground.
No one continued to notice the frail,pale boy on the ground.
Ardor of death,
Feeling of dread,
Tasting someone's cold breath,
My soul,wispy,fragile threads.
Suddenly my eyes closed,
Devoid of feeling,
My end fate chosed.
-Firefly
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
His feet was crunching snow.
The dark was thickest,
Battled only by a single light.
The snow crunched beneath his feet,
But the doe made no noise,
She passed,with confidence,through the trees,
For she was nothing but light.
Deeper and deeper into the forest she led him,
And he walked quickly,
He was sure that when she stopped,
She would allow him to approach her properly,
And then,he assumed, she would speak,
And the voice would help him understand.
At last she came to a halt,
She turned her beautiful head towards him,
And he broke into a run.
A question burned against his cold,
But as he opened his mouth to ask,
She vanished.
He was tired and confused,
There was wetness somewhere,
But everything was muddled,
He only thought of his doe.
He was descending into a dark pool,
His head swung to and fro,
He seemed to forget he couldn't see through dark,
Nor did he realize properly the depths of his dementia.
Waves lapped his chin,
He seemed impervious to the cold,
He walked on,still searching,
A madman's errand.
A sliver of fear penetrated his mind,
A trickle of doubt,
A pinch of awareness.
He was fully submerged and wondering at the burning in his nose,
"Where is my light?"
Lo the doe appeared,
'Ere eve of death,
A ways ahead,before him,
Big silver eyes watching,bitter eyes,
She started deliberately stepping backward,
Wickedly leading him on.
He tried to follow,
His body contorted,
He struggled for breath fuel,
For the poisonous air,
His heart skipped into his mouth.
The doe grinned,
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
He still didn't recognize danger,
He was staring at his doe,
Mesmerized,his eyes confused, his face reflecting fear,
His mind cracked with cold,
The surface of his consciousness broke.
He was withered and shriveled,
Falling into the cold,darkness beyond,
Every pore of his body screaming in protest.
He looked at his doe again,
Somehow remembering,on the threshold of death,
Her face was indifferent,
He tried to force his eyes closed,at least look away,
Her face then changed,
A cold,cruel,contorted mask.
She sneered,
Loving to linger, craving agony, she likes to put her hands in death.
-Firefly
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC
isn't it time
for penitence?
I just forget everything
and don't talk to anyone
except for you, dear Lord, you are my ball and chain
having died and come back again I get to look back
watching old movies of myself,
sleeping last night off, leg twitching
dreaming of moving along a motorcade of immanent death
one by one getting flat tires, running out of gas, suddenly the battery
dies
I get out of the car, look around, and see, to my surprise
a loved one's love looking back at me, twisting in the wind, empty, alone, drunk,
its my father or mother lifting my brother or sister from the back seat to the front, carelessly driving, ceaselessly swerving
towards the waterway
if it wasn't for the guardrail, we'd all be dead
time is a ritual now, and it hurts to come back to life, to feed the living,
to get dressed in day-old church clothes, to hit back, as one sneers at being sneered at, I pick up the Daily and skim the headlines, Lost and All Alone, A Stranger Takes a Dive, toss the rag and head to work, fixing to lie to my boss about being sick, about tasting olives, about who I am.
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 1:57 AM UTC
You sneered at me because you thought I'd lied
and stared at me through drunken eyes of pain,
then waved me off as I tried to explain.
You turned away, just shook your head and sighed,
still unconvinced that I had not a clue
where she had gone since I had left her here.
You drove away, your taillights disappeared
into the driving snow, the wind that blew.
The same snow broke your fall as you collapsed,
but couldn't keep your temple from the bruise
that showed up three days later as you lay
in state but not in peace. I think I snapped;
I spoke to you, 'twas Dylan's words I used:
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears I pray.
Jan 17, 2011
Jan 17, 2011 at 2:01 PM UTC