strap on that bruise
go rhapsodize in blue
and sweep me away before my
rough edges
and transparent brain
slide underfoot and puncture you, too.
it's like a wound
only abstract, colorful, filled with
noise like tv static or angel's voices
or
other things that make my ears bleed
and my throat tighten
my limbs weak
my face whiten like alabaster statues
all gilded with mold
leftover bread and cheese and hypodermic needles
from that time when i considered
thinking about
doing something drastic.
my problems,
my problems,
elastic,
plastic,
kind of confused and i'm not sure that you
really understand how much i don't want to be
anyone but me
falling gracefully into a grave
full of pillows and sand and
hold my hand?
3 comments:
DEAR NOAH, YOU ARE AMAZING, YOUR FRIEND, RILEY
the reason my poem prolly sounds weird to you is that you haven't been discussing the details of and theories about kennedy's assassination for two days in history class. (: there's an explanation behind everything i put in there.
basically, lee harvey oswald was really unstable, and i don't think he was a lone gunman — i think he might even have been used by someone else and discarded as the fall guy. he shot from the school book depository where he worked, but a bunch of witnesses said they also heard shots from the grassy knoll nearby.
when the police pulled him from a theater, oswald said, "well, it's all over now."
today there's a white x in dealey square where kennedy was shot.
it was an approval of your poem, but hopefully it also cheered you up. :D
sadly, i have to film a video project on sunday at the arboretum but OHMAN WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO HELP US FILM IT??? AND POSSIBLY BE THE GHOST OF HAMLET'S FATHER????? we have no one to do that right now and it would be REALLY awesome if you could. however, i should warn you that it will probably take a very long time and if you can't do it, i will understand.
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