3 More Pieces of Past Poetry

Yesterday I shared a poetry fragment from a found but forgotten notebook. Here are three more unedited, unnamed pieces from that same time:

purple collage art

Piece 1

Strawberry Crush

Half drunk by the bedside

As she begins to crush strawberries between her thighs

Orange cat insults master

Bringing natural actions into constructed domain

Music dances across the room

The creepy man had said to her,

“if that’s music tattooed on your leg your boyfriend could learn to play guitar across your thigh”

And though he’s not, her boyfriend that is,

the friendly boy’s guitar notes

skitter along her legs

And his apologies for the simplicity of his creation seem ludicrous for their complexity

He confesses that he no longer even wants her in his bed

And she laughs at this because now she no longer wants to fight being there

It’s all a game and the climax would be anti-climactic now

The build-up from the pressure of the chase and run is the point

Like playing Russian roulette,

Sitting for hours with the gun in your mouth,

thoughts teasing through your busy head and then blast!

And you’re still there

gun in hand in mouth

Realization of empty chamber seeping in

And now what? Nothingness.

Life continues to on

Never as intense as it was before the game’s outcome was learned

She doesn’t want to know how they end

So she runs from pursuit

Vanity drips down her spine

And she arches her back from the coolness of it

Alarm bell rings and she wants to tickle him into morning

Says instead, “it’s time to leave” with a groan

And his not yet sends her to the couch to write the sun up

She sits on wooden staircase to watch Venus rise in the East

She finds faces in the bluegrey clouds of early morning

Sitting behind her, he eyes the cloud she calls a lizard and censors her ideas

Rooster crows and rabbit runs away

This is their existence

Piece 2


Mind splits

She invites him in

Though she doesn’t want him there

The insanity of duplicity

She’s not even sure he exists

The house is new

The ideas old

And she’s sure she’s snapping


He laughs because he likes the lunacy

He thinks he is unique

Though he’ll claim he knows he’s not

He invites her to collapse into his dream

But she’s tired

Of rooms where bridges keep breaking

She burns them all

And still people follow her

Still she sees the other eyes

Inside of her mind

She wishes them away

And wonders when he looks at her in that wanting way

If he wants the her she knows

Or the her speaking out without her consent

Does he see the eyes in the back of her head?

She slams the back of her hand

Across the mental rickets of her mental motion

And kisses him goodnight

She wants alone

And hates him for leaving her to it

And loves him for lying her way into understanding

collage art tinted

Piece 3

Wild energy dances maniacally in the midnight moonlight

Whispers of magic wind their way around the unnatural color of a natural girl’s hair

Paganistic promises peak powerful in the purple clouds

Orb of illumination says hello with a thunder emotion kiss

She spins the shell of an electric ball between her fingers then tosses it back and forth inside of her hand

She pulls out the deges, drawing out the electricity,

Knowing people are watching, captivated by her playing, but not playing for their eyes

The evil of non-innocence gravitates erratically between her palms

Until she can calm it,

Until she can press it into a shape she adores,

Until she can make the energy of the room a planet of her own creation

And teach it to resolve inside of her

Demonizing every aspect of every one of the room’s occupants

And yet, from a touch behind

Someone will see

Her should blades are spouting curves

And she’s about to drop dust and fly away

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