And when the yawn comes out
in a stutter of breaths
no cars are sounding
The last visit of Aunt LucilaFor over thirty years
she has complained about her brother
-sixty years of being the richest
in the family
and now he can´t sit down;
his briefs hate all the pus
her other family
-mentally retarded brothers,
a husband who left her
(ah but she does not mentione he drifted away
to have some silence in his ears)
and a son who
into and outo
but she always showered gold
leaves on her aunt
the aunt that always
fed her clothed her
took her to school
and taught her to be
the pride of her generation
-How many of us
started to work
your ungrateful family
nevef cared about you?
I have only heard of
only once or twice in a year
and I have never heard rants
over how Aunt Lucille
forgot her meds,
lost her appointments
forgot her checks
forgot to wear clean clothes
forgot to bathe
forgot to clean herself up
-Like her brothers
(but being eighty
is a shitty time
even if she does
The sliding grays Throw your extra arm into the thrash!
The world swims, the soil swims
and genes will detemine
that your hands will never
be able to grasp anything
at thirty you haven´t grasped
your own life
every pendulum of your feet
will be a staggering wave
a silent room
buried in a bed
like a retiree
waiting for the mailman
with her emergency medicines
Air crisisLet me think
but time will go on
to become bluer and bluer
redder and redder
while his machine
silently blares its alarms
Will his oxigen
of seventy eight years
the next call
what will you tell me
about your brother
when you call
at three thirty?
Rubber cheeseYou are molten
into the rain
-you no longer have walls:
the cold gray of the sky
is your May abode-
floorplanks are liquid in your kitchen
and your tongue
does not know
if it is eating
MutantHear me read it
I am a mutant.
| My skin does not sallow in the sun
and I do not blush jaundice through my cheeks.
| I do not have extra fingers, or toes -
although my spine;
it boasts an ironic vertebrae,
it is a long tally of the hearts I have broken
and when I straighten my spine the bones Pop out of place.
I am out of place.
| I do not have a super power,
I lack exceptionality in all but my ordinariness.
| there is a vengeful bacteria feasting -
on my shoulder places;
i can't promise you anything.i made a mistake
when i told you that i could love you
forever. i know now that the only thing
i can know for certain is that nothing
will ever be certain again. we could
wake up tomorrow and feel something
completely different. we could wake up
tomorrow and be completely different.
that's the exciting part. it's also the
part that makes it hard to even fall asleep
in the first place.
my heart attacks
my every whim and everyday is this whirlwind
of terror and elation and i don't even know
where to end or begin or if this makes sense
anymore, but the one thing i've come to realize
is the worst kind of lie will always be the
ones you don't even know you're telling. so
i'd say i'm sorry, but i'd like to think you
already know. it's nothing worth repeating.
nothing ever is.
when i'm tired
i tend to miss you in an overwhelming sort of
way just because i'm not strong enough to fight
these feelings full time. i'm more of a halfway
girl, but there are a few things i fully understan
the vampire part 1
Amy was walking to her house via the forest because her car broke down.
Yes Cream Ill be fine. Amy said on her cell phone.
Ok, see you tomorrow at my party.
Ill be there.
Amy was with Cream at the movies watching I am Legend. Amy bear hugged her self because of the cold.
All Amy had on was a black tank top and a mini black skirt with black runners. Soon there was a rustling sound coming from the tree.
May I help yo? She asked like a homey.
Amy walked near the tree and a dark hand griped her under neath the tree. She saw a power ring then she new who it was.
Shadow??? Nice to see you again but I have to go. Amy tried to get out of his grip but no avail. Shadow let go please. Amy begged.
Why? I have a lust for something. Shadow said evilly.
Lust?????? Amy thought.
When I heard you were over Sonic I had this lust. Shadow said.
On my own apocalypse
If silk could melt
to drip down arms and goosebumped legs
in scarlet rivers, serpentine,
it seems only right
that the sky should burn as well.
Like roses heaped upon a stage,
cloaked in tumultuous applause,
the end will fall in exultation.
Shall we stand upon the shore
and taste the salt upon our lips,
basking in the last breezes
before the Breaking?
These last days are a ball,
a promenade of bliss,
a eulogy of memory.
Shiva, ever the gentleman,
asks for one last dance.
Haters gonna hate"You're not bi-sexual, you're a whore."
"Begging for attention, and nothing more."
I've heard all of these things today,
And frankly, I'm pissed, and have this to say:
No poetry, no words of rhyme.
Nothing wasted on you, no more of my time.
LoveLove is when somebody gives you a shoulder to cry on.
Love is when somebody makes you laugh when you're sad.
Love is when you miss somebody whenever they are gone.
Love is when whenever you see that person you feel glad.
Loving somebody is choosing not to see their flaws.
A human being will never be perfect.
Everything that person does you will give a loud applause.
Cause in your eyes everything that person does is correct.
You want them to smile.
You would work extra just to be with that person.
Even if it would be just for a while.
Love is unconditional, that's the truth.
couldn't bluei draw a picture of
a man in a silver box sells
75 cent coffee and bad bagels.
his shirt is the kind of blue no one ever
tried to name a crayon after.
tried to love you
and the morning is that same color,
the color of canned lightning-bugs and
unfiltered cigarettes and desire,
because that is all you
draw with couldn't blue.
i pay him 1.25 in change and purse-lint
so that a fourth-world factory can make more
silver boxes to sell more things
more stale blueberry muffins.
and he will keep gathering change
in 75 cent purse-lint increments
in the small sinking townships of
all the couldn't blue mornings.
and he will keep gathering the
ugly colors of
another side of desire
and he will wear those colors
on a shirt
those colors no one
SleepPerhaps it's the pressing consciousness
that across the world
people are at work and school
and walking sad with worry
Did people sleep
before they had to think of that?
Or perhaps it's the dreams
the ones you hate or hate to wake from
that don't offer their portents
as long as you are staring at the screen
or the printed page
or the windshield.
Or maybe there's a part that thinks
if you can just push the night clock round
Dare yourself not to close your eyes
like the everyday sun-wakers
To walk yourself through morning and beyond
the world will have to change somehow.
And the next time you give in
you will wake to something different
a place that's slightly new
and rings with intensity
Perhaps just a little better
than the night's rejected dreams.