with half open eyes
i'm staring at light
like this blank white
screen wondering
what is so attractive
about it
the darkness carries
waves of things
in light you'd only see
while feeling counts one
number more
than just the pixels
amounts to
it's true like when
i jump in sadness
at the noise of someone
walking toward me
that lonely feeling
i get all the time
i prefer to feel it
in truth and
alone
that way my every
detailed gesture
can be accidentally
toward no one but
myself and
the walls
who
by the way
never step up
to the back talk
when i hit them
i guess no one
would if they
were hit dry blows
after a while
the hissing just
grows old
no longer intimidating
with these hollow
fangs lacking
the luster of
defense they once
sank
into my
titanic smile
impenetrable
setting off
for the first time
without so much
as a flinch
until i rest my
head in my fisted
hands
forgetting the grip
i have on reality
two knives between
my teeth
cracking at the
tip of my tongue
a warmhearted
iceberg
slit ear to
ear
dahlia style
the root of my
situation
a problem better
described
speaking out when
i know my voice
isn't loud enough
silencing myself
when i know the words
inside my heart whisper
volumes on my mind's
memory hall of fame
what i should have
said and never did
until it was too
late
truthfully
i've cried so much
so hard and for so long
that these seasons
in my hand
this deck of cards i'm
shuffling with my
breathe
has just frozen over
my house of hearts
and piercing flush
has pinned me to
the ground flesh
fitted to my waterfalls
of dry heaves
the edge at which i
finally know
what needs to be
said but
i've no breath left
to speak it
pointing glares
at triggers
touching imaginary lines
and circling the tile with my
finger
brushing the iced over
gunpowder into my
hand of cards
so when i try to blow
my seasons for a gamble
at melting these walls
i'll dry heave these
wishes through
gun shots
and magic tricks
showing you how
easy it is to make
something disappear
...and let you figure
out on your own how
hard it is to get it
back
© 2007 Joanna Smith
Copying this work to another webpage without author permission is plagiarism.
Plagiarism is a misdemeanor, usually punishable by fines of $100-$50000 and up to one year in jail.
Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/7452/100486 on Sunday October 12th, 2008 10:17 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
Comments on lip synced gunshots|hushed finger