Tag: poetry

fader 

OshanLeave a comment

Arteries and Vessels close

stopping the blood from running to my brain

crunching bones beneath my toes

sliding into frame

 

I stumble through the wood

hoping to go home

Branches cracking

Like sticks and stones
A moment of clarity

Shining through the thick

Hurtful and old

It’s short and sad and something I cannot face

Beautiful and bold

 

Crisp airy meringue

With red berries on a pastel plate

My heart icing over

Right back to being tight and cold

 
Together and alone

Clarity hiding

The moment is gone

Lost broken and disowned

 
To the blood racing

The crunching muddling my cold mind

Polar air in the warmth of night

left behind

 

We are 

OshanLeave a comment

Wet single ply paper is sticking to the counter,

and we are counting empty soap dispensers.

But who is washing their filthy hands anyway.

 

Her apartment keys are on a department store key ring,

and  her expensive rings are on worthless fingers.

 

Painting the town with our rusty personalities and body glitter.

Yet we feel our best when we have been stripped down to nothing.

Stripping for anyone and everyone,

we are claiming empowerment.

 

 

We are messy girls in velvet dresses,

and well dressed girls in messy situations.

Buying shots we cannot afford.

Spiralling out of control in a city far from mom and dad.

 

We are starving and haven’t eaten in 17 hours.

We’ve been up all night smashing our delicate faces off the wall,

and grinding our weak yellow teeth until they crack and crumble.

We are swallowing parts of our teeth with little pills

and this help our stomach contents stay down.

 

We are going down on our friends,

and feeling utterly used.

We are painting the sheets with worthless fingers and broken toes.

 

We are practicing and painting , but getting no where.

Wearing out the brushes,

and brushing out knotted and dyed hair.

We are dying to get out of this fucking place.

 

 

feast

OshanLeave a comment

her heart wasn’t steady

a ship in a storm

your constant tugging of doubt

porcelain in versace heels

shining and talking politely

medication and daddy issues

is this what could have been?

 

dress never wrinkled

reasonably educated

a muse for your artistic endeavours

manic

pixie

dream

girl

 

shes falling and

grasping on bodies and trying to get back up

tripping and slipping and

holding onto the warmth of blood to blood

 

spaced out

close to death

close to pain

raw throat

wishing she could go back to those times

slamming on the cement

in the bathroom you are trying to stop her

knuckles bruised

bleeding and blacking out and bleeding

not back there

she cannot go back there

you wont have it

 

matters are tough

and feelings  are sharp

shallow pangs

you feel nothing

she is rotting

flies on the meat

swirling and feasting

 

 

 

winding 

OshanLeave a comment

Inflatable dreams at needle point aching to be popped

The angry pro stitchers fingers are getting sweaty grasping at the tiny needle

Their milk crates are dented from constant pressure and continued sitting

 

Thick dreams at night with orgies and oozing glitter

The stiff buttons are hard to press

Yet so satisfying to touch

And take-out fries are never the same as crisp virgin ones

Mouths salivating at the thought

Anxiety builds and the glitter orgy ends

 

Run your hands on the picnic tables getting as many slivers as you possibly can

Slur your words from the pain of the wood chips embedded in your skin

Wooden floors drip with blood

An endless search for the first aid kit

Iced hands that feel as heavy as blocks of wood

 

Those cigarettes are eaten for 20 dollar bills and the party begins to pick up

Grayscale nights with a bossy little personality to match

Crisp floating memories weighing heavy on your chest

your head

and your back

shards

OshanLeave a comment

I sit in the ladies changeroom again and again

cursing the broken glass in my fingers

when I grab something the wrong way

pain shoots through my hand

but I can’t find the shard or the invisible pain

 

I want blood

not this tiny sharp intruder that hurts when I twist

I have this glass in my finger

hiding me deep in the changeroom

 

 

Cricket Dream Land

OshanLeave a comment

In the beginning I was shy and bashful,

Not knowing what I wanted or what you knew.

We were quiet and in love,

The  symphonic sounds of crickets and frogs at night in the hayloft,

I had my first drink with you.

I kissed you and it felt amazing,

Your neck kisses made me so warm.

 

 

Now I hate sleeping alone and being alone,

and thinking alone.

Who will I tell when I cant breathe,

I cant breathe now.

I am repressing thoughts of you but they scatter the city.

We have spent years together,

I’m drinking again.

 

I really don’t know why I did it so fast.

 

I feel sick and I cannot eat,

I toss in my sleep only waking to think of a moment we shared and cry.

I wear the bracelet you gave me and I cannot take it off.

I feel your touch on my skin and I want to hold your hand,

I know the memories of your touch will fade and I will have nothing left.

I know your body better than you do,

 

Is this really best for any of us,

We were fine,

We got in some fights but we still loved,

We have different personalities but we still loved.

And yet we both long for the hypothetical love of another,

What, are we suppose to meet another and everything will change ?

We will have all this perspective and knowledge,

Perhaps that won’t happen,

But if it does I want you to know you own my heart,

As stubborn as we both are we have to admit that we learned a lot from each other.

 

I hate to write as if it is over,

I don’t want to type it,

It would make it real.

I want to live in the cricket fantasy land,

Live a thousand years in your loft.

Surrounded by movie posters, sleeping bags, and your body.

I want to live in a daze.

A fever dream,

But that can’t happen and we have to come to reality.

 

I love you,

I love you,

And thats why it hurts.

In the end I’m cold and vain,

Not knowing what I want,

Quiet and out of love.

 

Manic picsy gal 

OshanLeave a comment

Feasting on the wind
Only to preserve a pile

Picturing what it would be like

to be preserved

 

We are choking

Intangible

picture that

 

thick spit cascading from my chin

trying to swallow

they won’t take that

 

I hate myself,

and you hate yourself.

mutually

marbled and cool to the touch

 

Demand

OshanLeave a comment

I burn a deep rich green

Peeling into 21

I wear black

I want to feel it all

I bloom pink and soft

Later flowers are the most driven and solid

Thick hearty petals and stacked plant flesh

Afraid to be sexual?

“I think I’ve faked more orgasms than I have had”

I burn a dark luxurious red

Let the flowers open

Ask Or demand

Burn the colours you need to be

Holy Bedroom

OshanLeave a comment

The hungry bed waits for you,

with its sheets twisting and its pillows stiff.

 

Just take a bite of the apple,

let the juice run down,

dripping and sticky.

 

Warm milk in a plastic cup,

Just like grandma gave me.

The perfect temperature,

no bubbles or steam.

 

The bed is restless,

it wants to be full.

I cut the poached eggs

you watched the yolk spill out,

beading in small yellow drops.

Dribbling onto a spongy bed of rye.

 

Sleep my little angel,

tell your mom you are in good hands.

The bed has you now,

twisting its cotton sheets around you,

like little tricky snakes.

 

 

 

 

 

My Neck, mY bacK

OshanLeave a comment

And without a word they touched their bare bellies together,

Making slurping sounds.

Anna, with a drink in her hand said,

“It just made sense”.

“It just did” she repeated.

A ritual? A greeting?

Who knows.