--in which i give up on an interesting name

Swim- April 4th

she's disconnected from reality,
reaching for the skeletons of an
anorexic ghost she had named her past.
one arm before the other
she struggles against a sadistic tide
bashes her repeatedly against jagged rocks
until she's lost all consciousness
her bones are splintered
scattered before an unappreciative crowd
blood colours the ocean-
she's lost to us all.

---
she swims.

April 5

Constantly having to choose
a defining moment in time
when all our dreams come true
--History or Biology -- Law or Medecine

Childhoods submerged in Autumn's rain
try not to lose your way
for sucess will be your foe
and "do you want fries with that" your slogan.

Hey! First of all, great signature. Second of all, I was going over a style book recently where one of the rules was to take advantage of the fact that putting something at the end of a sentence gives it emphasis. Another part of the rule was that putting it before the subject gives it emphasis, which is what you've done with your last line, but I really think it would work much better and leave a stronger impression if "do you want fries with that" wrapped up this piece. Just something to consider when you're working on poems: where do you want the reader to linger and rest? Keep it up!

April 6th -Heather, Heather quite contrary

pink cardi-
gan
short black hair
shattered in inconsequential pieces
yet so put together

-depravity in the sense of the word
like a broken vase stuck together with
crazy glue.

Heather, Heather quite contrary
How does your garden grow?
With --e--m--p--t--y--s--p--a--c--e--s in your head.
And debonair's in a row.

Spoiler

Don't blame me, blame my friends.

Spoiler

Couldn't get on the internet so there's a couple of days poetry here..

April 7th
Apocalypse

when the world has lost it’s voice
and only it’s inhabitants begin to speak for it
uttering their venomous whispers into it’s crust
answering mother Gaia’s questions
blood is emptied from the heavens
falling on Gaia’s alabaster skin
eroding her perfection
and soon her virtue
death appears in his shroud
and chooses his victims
-our questions begin to be answered
-the heaven/this hell
they merge don’t they?
and become earth...

nothing stays the same
everything you heard has been real.
there is a heaven
there is a hell
but you’re not in any of them.

April 8th

Worth-less

we’re the children of the night-
standing by the street side
with poses you can’t ignore
you can’t take your eyes off us
for we are electric
so we send sparks into your soul
you want us
commodities for a wicked world
-we’re the children of the night
hoods up--eyes down--no contact--
guns blazing--societies eyesore--
mama’s not home--
papa’s in jail--
--we’re the children of the night
in business suits, and flowery dresses
in deserted motel rooms
we meet
away from responsibility and guilt
giving in to the demons inside

April 9th
happiness is that gumball
that left a bad aftertaste
because the sweetness never last long
and people never smile forever
because life is a game of tennis
where the rackets have holes in them

happiness is the reason
we listen to music
not just to escape vivid reality
for heavy basses, and spindly guitars
with clever words and a voice
telling us the things we know
and the things we know will never happen
begets a new life that we’re unaware of
--that babe is happiness
that moment is bliss.

covet happiness and fight for it
for happiness does not enter unannounced
but only when bribed
and lied to
bound and gagged
so it never leaves…
but happiness is Houdini at his best
and only cheap caricatures stay forever
so smoke that weed
and inject that heroin
in hope that happiness stays another day.

Spoiler

I have today's poem done too but I'm not bother searching for the notebook it's written in. Probably in a couple of minutes