Category: grunge

Bottle Nosed and Face Down

OshanLeave a comment

I wish I had giant eyes

The kind of eyes that are so glassy

And so glossy

that they cannot be real

I wish they would take over my sight

Allowing for hyper sight

Seeing through

Seeing over

Seeing who I am

 

I wish my eyelashes went further than my brow

Catching tears before they descend

Cupping the salty liquid

Returning it

Carving raw designs into my forehead

Telling me who I am

 

I wish the crook of my neck

Was large enough to consume my family

Store them with me

Even when they are long dead

Decomposed

Their bones would become mine

Intertwined

Infinte

Showing me who I am

 

I wish I had a buzz cut

So short

You can see every mark

Every scrape

On my scalp

The kind of hair that makes you question gender

They can decide who I am

Tentacles

OshanLeave a comment

She has covered me in her sticky adhesive again,

Latex free?

Love free.

It impedes my vision,

Tugging at my eyelids.

Forcing the tears,

I have held for so long.

Sterile heart.

Sterile mind.

There is nothing sterile about me.

I’m tarnished,

No amount of latex free adhesive can glue me back together.

Glaring, I can see her smiling.

Ridiculing me.

As if I wanted,

The sticky tentacles of her caring.

Wall Ball

OshanLeave a comment

The rails were cold on my hands

but so was the coffee we share with a straw

Topics of conversation trail off

into the luminous glow of childhood

Like the rules of kickball suppressing

we write our names on the cement walls

we watch the smoke crawl out of your house
I set my hand in fresh gum

warm from the chew

pale strings flow in the windless room

far enough to make us leave

Grazing those cold rails

we do not step on the cracks

they are toxic

and will hurl us back into the past

 

Practice makes perfect

when denying our lives and

living under rocks

 

Cydonia

OshanLeave a comment

In a polyethylene lawn chain,

Sitting.

Starring at at the pea stone gravel,

Until the stones darken and melt together.

All the while, smelling the smoke.

The Glorified health conscious nothingness.

 

Spider webs but no spiders.

A mechanically driven government operation.

Handing out brochures,

Coffee stained, and catching dust endlessly.

 

Buy lives,

on a lawyers desk.

Stare until the images blend together.

Stare until it becomes the world,

It becomes the world.