The telephone cord ties my tongue soÂ i put my life in a poem and send it to you, wondering if my gesture equates to sending my heart to Rome.
Torn paint dressed the fence that hung the broken gate The broken gate witnessed the death-throe plants The death-throe plants kept company with nicotine dregs Nicotine dregs grew from hands above pitted concrete Pitted concrete bore memories of lost revellers Lost revellers were lost in a dayâ€™s pain and liquor A dayâ€™s pain and liquor were birthed in a dirty tummy A dirty tummy reminded of nocturnal, loving sperm Nocturnal, loving sperm screamed from needful things Needful things lived in the home with the broken gate.
Waiting room Stillness â€¦ people beside one another, ignoring and self-caring Blissful serpent creeps in the blank walls, floors and lights HELP! on a shit seat Iâ€™m 28 â€¦ please change my wet nappy Why! Why! (can pigs not fly and we must die) Elevators, halls, computers, more people â€“ faces empty, faces full â€“ flowers Up, up, up, up, up, UP! and cartooned walls stare at the children (some not so childlike) Nurses walk in the dark, detached, Knowing Love in a sleeping (yet vigil) mother Devilâ€™s number lying … Continue reading →