Categories > Original > Poetry1 Reviews
I could take a job sailing around the fucking sunsets of the world. I could sit here with all the wrong and right at my toes. But instead, I just stand here and wait for a day when it'll all go away.
...but i've lost my birds...
“Things will be better. We'll know more this way,” .
..what if we dye our sorry heads? drown our eyes in toxins? we won't see that way; we can be born again.
“I can't let you stay here all night, all day. You won't live.”
...but the horrors of the nights/days...what about all those people? they died right there without living in that baby sanctuary...i can't stand it...
“You're still young. You can still get out. I can go with you.”
...the skies are too icy for either of us...they'll copy you...cut you and reshape your head...
“We can't stay innocent forever. Aren't you forgetting your pills?”
...i won't sing to your rosy tunes...those fucking doctors haven't fixed me yet...
“Three times a day. I told you that four months ago.”
...that's when those moths clogged my ears...i couldn't understand what you were saying...
“Here. Have some water.”
...you just want me to live longer so you won't have to sit through chaotic earth alone...
...i don't believe in sunshine...
“We can't stay innocent forever. Won't you just talk to me?”
...and risk the bombings in 1943? risk the laughter of the classroom? risk the doves, maybe...
“I can see you sad. Don't you want to talk?”
...i can see you restless...your waves are lost...i can hear the noise your tongue makes as it goes click click...
...lights don't shine? diamonds don't reflect love? defects are alright?
“I'm so lonely. I just wanted to hear you. Are you even there?”
...wait on my status report...
“You know, I fell asleep last night,”
...one percent complete...
“I didn't dream, though.”
...twenty three percent complete...
“God, nights are hard. I wish I hadn't buried my coat with Lidia,”
...forty five percent complete...
“It's getting kind of chilly out.”
...seventy four percent complete...
“If I were to dream,”
...don't you look at me with those eyes, please don't look at me like that...
“I'd hear you.”
...oh, god...just burn your tongue right there, man...
“You used to sing so pretty.”
...don't waste your sweet talk on me...i'm not fooled, i am the fool...
“What happened to you?”
…shit happened...shit goes down, distorts the sound...it's hard to connect...
“You can't live this life forgetting. When you find your thoughts, call me,”
“I'm not crazy.” don't look like that, don't open your mouth like that. don't be so awkward. make me cringe with those fucked up eyes.
“I know you aren't.”
“I'm not sad.”
“I know you are. Don't lie.”
“I'm not. I'm in fucking high water.”
“It's good to hear your voice.”
“Yes. You don't think so?”
“No, as a matter of fact, I love my voice. I hear it all the time. In my head.”
“Did you lock yourself in?”
“Yeah, for a bit. You, though. I want to talk about you.”
“What is there to tell?”
“I thought you might know firsthand.”
“Oh, come on. Who knows you firsthand? Obviously not yourself.”
“I don't know. It sounded right.”
“It did. But only the sounds you made. I miss your sounds.”
“I don't. I just lost myself.”
“I think that happened after the sounds.”
“Would you like to have this dance?”
“There's no music.”
“In my head there is.”
“That's a bad place to be.”
“Moderation is alright.”
“Alright like defects?”
“Sure, like defects.”
“Okay. I'll dance with you to silence.”
“I really missed you.”
“Sure. As much as I missed my meds.”
“No, really. I missed you.”
“I...I missed you, too.”