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this poem is me1.this poem is me
I started this poem at midnight with cigarette smoke choking my skin
and the outside air clogging up
my cold lungs.
The damp floor stole my seat, so I just stood in the dark looking up.
2.
I see nothing-ness, just black with the occasional pale yellow moon clambering into my view. I like how eyelashes curl upwards
and the blue of your irises, but that doesn’t matter, not now everything has squeezed into shadow.
And the clouds - well they just hold onto happy things, letting go of the ugly
&nb
by ~inmyroom
twenty-five places at once1. Maybe there is a girl somewhere with a heart that hangs outtwenty-five places at once
of a hunched spine, spluttering all over like fireworks and broken taps, maybe she ties her hair back like seven year olds for reasons like: not to smudge cells that try to hide under floorboards
and to tuck everything back inside, like something red
wound up in elastic bands that only beats
every five point two seconds
The windows does not need to be closed right now, they empty like dirty bathtubs, organs slosh around in soil
and leave mud prints on fingers.
2. Maybe there is a gir
by ~inmyroom
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Devious Info
- Interests: Anime and manga
- Favourite movie: Resident Evil: Apocolypse, Corpse Bride, TNBC, Edward Scissorhands, Moulin Rouge
- Favourite poet or writer: Charles Baudelaire
- Operating System: Windows XP
- Favourite game: Final Fanatasy, Kingdom Hearts
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