Brand of Poison

I don't understand

I don't understand
why she's the poison
I like to drink
why I want to
drip
every
drop
in my throat
and feel the sting
the burn
the metallic ting
of her tongue
why I want
to be paralyzed by the
venom she excretes
from her hips
like an amazon snake
curled around my sleeping foot

why is her brand of
strychnine
the one on my shelf

every time I see her
her hair dripping
down her face and
melding into her coffee
with the perfect
color match
I want to take
its scalding fire
and rush it to my
skin so she leaves
an external mark
a badge
not of honor
of warning
of damaged goods
of false words
to others ears
because I know
deep down
shes my brand of poison

I know no one else
will pull apart
the scar
shes made
no one else can
break through
the wall I've built
around her memory
the time I've wasted
sucking her smoke
to the filter
stinging my eyes
with her burning looks
may get me in the end
she may finally
shut me down completely
turn me into a
shaking
quivering
mess
but at least then
my memory will be erased enough
to never have to worry again

"Listen, I've been drinking, as our house lies in ruin. I don't know what I'm doing: alone, in the dark, at the park or at the pier, watching ships disappear in the rain."

He sits alone in the dark
the only thing he can feel
is the fans breeze
on his feet
he asks
show me something beautiful
pictures flash in of
mountains
sunsets
cityscapes
moonscapes
kittens
wives

wives

since when does watching a wedding
close his throat and wet his eyes
since when is all he can see
is what is wrong not what is right
who killed the hopeless romantic?
who painted his eyes shut to possibility

he asks
show me something beautiful

because I can't find
a single angel
whose wings aren't broken

show me something beautiful
because I can't find
a single flower
that isn't frostbit
and dried out

show me something beautiful
because the last time I saw
a sunset or stars
I was overflowing with hope

show me something, beautiful

entertain me while I
entertain you with thoughts of us
you laugh cause you think it's
absurd
that this skinny warrior
could ever protect this princess

he sees the sunrise and
the light return
it's beautiful
on her shoulders
open your eyes
open your eyes
fear not the rising of the sun
open your eyes

This is very free flowing. And it's 2am. I'll clean it later. Enjoy.

Snippet

I hope your face
is the last thing
I see
when fate
comes to get me

I hope the moon
has a halo
and the earth
is bright below

I hope your face
is the last thing
I see
when fate
comes to get me

PastPresentFuture

This isn't about/to/for anyone really. Just had a line come in my head and started writing around it. It's a bit overdramatic, but...well that happens.

What life is this I'm living?
What are these things?
burying myself under ash and wine
burning myself with light and sound
these conquests
these women
these smilesperfumessheetsrobes
my head held just below middle
wrappersreceiptsnumbersphonenumbers
textstextstextsvoraciouswordstexts
texts dripping from my fingers
slithering out of my brain
my nails
dropping from my tongue onto
my phone
onto their necks
but once they hit the air
they mean nothing
texttexttext
sticking up from the ash
floating half sunk in the wine

what are these things?
who are these things?
how are these things
the ones that have come to dictate
my life?
describe who I am?
explain to those who don't know
that this is my story?
forever and always
once bitten forever evil
once my past forever my future
dangerous then
vicious now
no need for a trust that is just to be broken
later on so why worry about what I can be?
what I have been
erases that
don't talk to me now
cause there is no point
no change in a character who once was
no change in a person who can't be
the helpless romantic he once strived to be
the chivalry he can see is the right thing to do
just viewed as another tactic to lead you stray
can't escape what once was because
others can't see the change
can't see what now is

What is this life I lead?
apparently pointless to the one I've led

texttexttext
pastpresentfuture
smilesperfumessheets
texttexttext
changechangedchanging
pastpresentfuture
strongstrongerstrongest
goodbetterbest
pastpresentfuture
worstbetter...?
something I can be
someone you want
chivalry
doesn't die
not a tool in a handbook
a courtesy
a kindness
a right
not a means to an end


Yeah not sure about all this, but it was a flurry of writing so that was nice. It might have been sparked by the booklet about the MFA Writing program at SAIC I got in the mail today. It may be a possibility for me next year. We'll see. Money? Time? Devotion? All question marks. Enjoy?

Untitled as of now

We
is no good
for, you and me?
we should never be
nothing but hateful words
and bad decisions
missteps and misguidance
I'm the rocks
and you're Virginia Woolf
I'm in your pocket
in the river

We are poison to each other
you're the hemlock
and I'm Socrates
you're whispering in my ear
while I sleep

Though we can see that
it can't ever be
we will still drink deep
soak in the last drop
until we can't stand it
until our bodies fully reject it
until I'm the shell
I once was
and you're Hemingway

I'm not sure about this one. I would love some feedback on it because I really like the idea of it. I just wrote it tonight before rehearsal. I'm not sure about all the literary allusions. I just really like the line, "I'm the rocks/and you're Virginia Woolf" I don't know that I need the "I'm in your pocket/in the river". What do you all think? I also want to add some more things in and around it. Oh, and I also hate titling things "untitled" because I think it's a cop out. Open flow of dialogue...GO!

Snippets

She lived her life
through the validation of others
spoke mostly in affirmative quotes
like the antique signs
in a grandmother's living room

he lived his life
through fantasy with others
thought mostly in
what ifs
and hopes
like the player on a crowded city street

his mind is just bored
he doesn't know what else to do

-----------

he's gonna drink
he's gonna drink
to try and numb
the sting he has
in his head and eyes
he's gonna drink
like all those
cliches he read about
and all the failures
he hears about
he's gonna rage
at the universe
and holler and shout
because it must be
their fault this happened
surely not his

--------------

I'll keep your words close at heart
like a wild west bible
to stop bullets
if pain gets close
I can play dead
until she kisses my cheek
until she goes away
then change my name
and wash myself
in a river of your
dreams and perfume
so when I hit town again
pain won't know its me
until I fight back
and she sees the scar
on my cheek
in the perfect shape
of her lips

Racine poems

Wrote these today on my road trip. Not while driving of course.


I'm gonna smoke
until it makes me sick
I'm gonna drink
until I don't think
think about us
about all this
frustration
about all this
confusion
I'm gonna stop
worrying
your thoughts are
elsewhere
my thoughts are
here still
but here
isn't where
I want to be
so I'll leave
I'm gonna leave
you behind
I'm gonna run
until you can't find me
then
I'm gonna smile
until it sticks

-------------------

they felt the chill
of the store-bought breeze
but it just made them closer
the warmth of their bodies
erased their goosebumps
and their entangled
feet and legs and arms
were better than any blanket
they could find

once they had settled
he tried to match
his breath to her's
he had to exhale faster
than normal
and she tried to match his
and she had to
hold her breath
so they lay there
holding each other's
breath and hands
listening to their heartbeat
listening to each other's laugh
from the past
feeling their bodies fall relaxed

she wanted to tell him
he was it
and he wanted to assure her
that she was his
but they liked the quiet
so they just held on
pulled closer
tangled more
melding into each other
molding around each other
folding across one another
stopping time in their minds
so they won't forget
how he feels
how she smells
how
(in)
they
(out)
breathe
how her eyes shone
when he said
yes
how his laugh echoed
when she said
how about now

soon the sun will rise
bathing them in a glowing sheet
the birds will sing in their day
the night will remain in their eyes
they will greet dawn
with a stretching celebration
an optimistic
good morning baby
they won't have moved
they'll be a turning vine
and they will
(in)
breathe
(out)