you had cancer. i didn’t know until it was all gone. you don’t talk much. i know this about you, but it’s hard to be this in love with you and all of your secrets.
cheer up. you mope around with all of your mysteries and act like i’ll never understand. i want to understand. so, talk to me- cope with the courage.
Last edited by amelie on Sat Apr 06, 2019 3:36 am, edited 2 times in total.
you washed away the blood with bleach, scrubbing hard and letting it seep into the floorboards. when it was simple like this. when i could reach out and touch you. when the misty moonlit eyes of the hour were longer and more forgiving. it’s hard to sleep now. in the car, i had a dream about my step sister and her big, beautiful eyes. sunlight came streaming through the back seat window like the projector beams at the film fest where you lost your mind screaming and i lost my left shoe in the soggy, wet ground. you washed away the mud with the hose, cold and depressing letting the dirt break apart between your toes. when you stopped me in the middle of the street to let me hop on your back and i saw the whole world from up there. i regret kissing you, but you’re glad we did it. i keep my guard up now, and i can tell that it scares you.
Last edited by amelie on Sat Apr 06, 2019 3:36 am, edited 1 time in total.
his lungs were too big for cigarettes, so he smoked cigars fumbling around with them in his fingers with a smug look on his face. the polk a dot shirt in the front row had 800 tiny white spots all over. he counted them carefully, shaking his finger after each new number. the audience kept up with him, too. that whole audience and the drunk guys in the back, just laughing their asses off.
everybody knew him in california, everybody knew him in the underground.
they burried him shortly after he died in a polk a dot shirt with little white spots all over.
Last edited by amelie on Sat Apr 06, 2019 3:37 am, edited 1 time in total.
people say that if you can be happy in ohio, you can be happy anywhere. but i was so sad in michigan cloudy and industrial; the air felt poisonous.
the midwest isn’t quite so boring once you can look past all the drifters, the ghost towns and burnt-out small towns. a lack of opportunity, we get over-looked. all our parents are divorced, we’ve all been molested, and chicago smells like shit.
instead of vegans, we have opioid addicts. stay skinny, Mini!
LeBron James is a cool guy though, right?
Last edited by amelie on Sat Apr 06, 2019 3:37 am, edited 1 time in total.
kenny comes to my house and slides a grenade pin under my door. i sense his lingering presence on the other side and yet unspoken, i’m aware that he senses me, too.
holding the pin in my hand, the metal loop wrapped around my finger i’m still. i know that this pin was born of chaos. i know that the bomb was alive in the sand dunes. but it doesn’t make any difference to me.
kenny breaks my window at night and climbs through in a panic. crying on my chest, he says he’s sorry. they’re chasing him again and he’s on the run. i hide him in the cupboards until the morning.
up in the tree by your window. watching the pocket knife I gave you chip away at the bark. we didn’t talk about much, but it was enough to keep us going. I felt it in my head; I was too heavy to float away. I was there. I was present, and it felt good for a change.
when we sat at the table after a rough couple of days and I realized, this is how it’s going to be from now on. I’ll tell you about the prison yard, and you’ll shake your head and sigh, saying how you wish it was you. I felt it in my feet, too heavy to take a step forward. so you stayed behind and waited it out with me.
when I told you enough was enough. I broke it off in September and you were left with too many things to remember me by. that part wasn’t my fault. it had been a rough couple of months and my head wasn’t healing any better than before. I felt it in my eyes, too focused to even blink; too sore to shed a tear. You knew this was coming, but you didn’t know when. At least this answers one question for you. One of the many questions you ask that I have no answer for. Why I can’t love you anymore. Why I’m always floating. Why I stack the cups so high. I don’t know. and my feet. they were still too heavy to lift. I told you, “go ahead. go on without me.” and so you proceeded as I stayed behind. but somehow it still feels like I was the one who walked away. if I did, how far did I go and where? did I ever stop to rest?
i want it bad tonight. you saw me cry at the table and held me when i gave up trying. you said baby i have lungs, and they’re pushing up against the walls of my rib cage. baby, is it too much to ask? can i kiss you even though i don’t want to? can we make it all work somehow?
i have limits. i’m a dove in a cage, i’m a girl with a crush.
when did all of our friends start talking like they do now? everything’s a competition- baby, will we ever make it to the finish line?
You look at me laughing With liquid in your mouth. Material look in your eyes, Pointless as a pellegrino water. The first aid kit just doesn’t cut it for you, You bleed all over
Tired and anemic, resonate With the crows on the flagpole. Crumble to bits when I touch you Out of sorts in the morning, Pale as light by the evening.
And if you die in the end, Will it all be worth it Or will I forget you by the time I drive away? I’ll just hang up And say I’m sorry And hope that I never have to see you again So sick and broken.
Requiem for a bank robber, Quick-witted story-teller Stoked to watch the world burn Listen to his stomach churn If you call his name, his head turns Quick enough to snap. But it never does though, Ask him all the fists he’s thrown Rougher than an earthquake Dead weight, what a waste Tougher than a rattlesnake Act fast or contemplate Fight hard, earn money Hang loose and talk funny Cruise slow, bite deep Throw it all away and sleep Daniel was a sick runner Acted tough but ran from thunder Hid his head under the covers Fearful of his own mother Grew up in a cardboard box Made money picking locks Never owned a pair of socks Was entertained just throwing rocks Robbed a bank, died full-stop No one heard his body drop
i want to float up in a tornado of dirt and dust and teeth. i want to cling to a bolted metal staircase for my life without a single thought of what has been or what could have been in my short little life in ohio.
xenia ohio, the second biggest tragedy of the 20th century. “a tornado hasn’t touched down in canal fulton in years,” Tanner says. John agrees Aiden is indifferent.
i want to throw myself in front of a ten-ton truck just to see what i would think about in my last seconds alive. i don’t have a death wish, i just wish i were dead just to know and to feel. to be stripped of all the bullshit in my life to think about nothing but the present and to laugh at all of the things that used to worry me.
when stacy fell pregnant all those years ago she didn’t run from home she was 16 and unsure of where she could go her dad was a sick and twisted guy who touched her when she was young and shit all over the ground she walked on he was all mad that she had been screwing around with some senior guy from the school but when she had the baby he let go of his anger and stepped up to care for it her brother was 27 when he had his first child and her other brother lived alone and never got married stacy got all twisted and tied to men who could never take care of her and in the midst of her horrible life she upheld a strong blissful character. when i sit down and talk to stacy she’s distant and just isn’t there with me i’ve tried to help her out talking but she just isn’t one for poetry stacy became and grandma when she was somewhere in her 30s and when my uncles pick on her for being a grandma so young she’ll laugh and say “it just doesn’t bother me.”
Sunday morning I woke up to a spider on the ceiling Above my head. I blinked at her And she bit back. The neighbors were locked Out of their car again. I shrugged And said I’m sorry, I have somewhere To go. I drove to the bridge And threw my keys into the water. I left the car there, too. Just left it. I couldn’t believe myself. I made it To the portage lakes off ramp, Home to the homeless and jobless, Gathered there In search of some happy cash For their crappy lives. A man in a speedo approached me And I felt uneasy. He wanted cash But I shrugged And said I’m sorry, I have problems Of my own, bud. I’ve got shit to sort out And I need all I’ve got. He spit on the ground And pretended to cry As I walked off Down the road, Far from home with nowhere to go.
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