boxed, backed into a corner, up against the walls. little red flags; irrational make overs. quality control cast aside; never mind the noise. the gears turn scraping in the absence; abscess, obsess. let the others pass by; move to the side. it is all just another stage of development.
the dispensation of love; be careful to not spread myself too thin. a thread of logic. open wide for my daily dose of internalizing power structures, of struggles, of infrared chocolate. all of the blind cooperation; lethal injection. the undisputed anesthesiologist leans over the bed to check; my eyes have rolled back in my head. crush each word that comes to fruition; squelch the ideas of optimum functioning; i am at maximum capacity.
a spare tire wobbles out of place and settles on the side walk. sitting alone in the sun; i had not thought of it that way. staying in for the summer; staying in for reverse hibernation. the arrows all point in the wrong direction. cross another name out of my book. it really isnít all that funny; type face. my poker face. drop the pendulum.
little letters swinging through the windows and doors from lost pages torn and bleeding. little nothings spoken only to darkness. silence; the walls are breathing. sleeping; the bed is going to break under this weight. i cannot let another day go by backwards; lowered by pulleys and strings. let the others play on the swings; the chains are clinking clanking against the metal frame. i am sitting under this sky, under this tree, searching for four leaf clovers.
i think it is less about love and more about breaking down walls.
i am the princess of the ice castle. in my dreams, prince charming
comes to my rescue on a motorcycle armed with a sledge hammer. when
his identity is about to be revealed he disappears; i am left in the
melting remnants of my not so protective shell.
love conquers all, the all consuming, self fulfilling prophecy. not all it is cracked up to be; self defeating. due to scheduling difficulties, this summer day will be concealed; feel free to sleep as long as you want. the comatose marathon. what can come from days spent dreaming; tied up in hot sheets. my suit case is full of dancing shoes and tutus.
hands down; the pull of escapism, of drinking fire. phantom bruises; relapse, repress, resolve. holding my breath in the deep end of the pool. it is an interesting view from the bottom; looking up the light floats through ripples of blue tile. suction cups. staple guns. i am the only one here. i am running down dimly light streets; forever backwards doesnít make much sense.
life in lower case. i sit up at night wondering how every thing got to be so difficult. a point of reference, a soft spot in the sand. the bed creaks with age; i let go of the ropes. i am floating above the room in quiet anticipation. these three rings; the disappearing girl is in the spotlight again.
gazing at clouds. i see an elephant and a ballerina. gazing at crowds. i see steam rising from the hot streets. old rain condenses and drips off my windshield, i wipe my nose and sip my coffee. sitting on the front stoop, the building is quiet. little pools swirl in the gutters. behind the quiet questioning of a girl, seemingly content, looking for the way inside. my neighbor from across the hall opens the door, the dogs burst out.
love poem. blink back tears, blink black years, and list disadvantages to be put on file; the establishment wins again. america, red, white, black and blue, truth and justice for all, where you can have your cake and eat it too; where do stupid cliches like that come from anyway?
belly aches tied up in silver; tap my foot on green cement floor. these four walls, donít even try it. evasive attempts at happiness. who is going to save me if i canít save my self; serve myself. a pack of wolves is all that is being offered today. i get so bored; itís the same day over and over again. i donít want to be sacrificed any more. itís my alter, itís my pint of ice cream and i donít feel like sharing.