Drunk.When I last spoke to my reflectionDrunk.
the blue liver pools where my eyes should have been
were storming in frenzy.
Gray cap beaming,
flaps covering the chill that led to my ears,
I watched myself ripple and fall apart.
(I often think I only ever see myself this way because the mirrors are breaking as I touch them.)
Gently letting my eyelashes fall;
I feared the poison taste of mascara as much as I welcomed it.
Once conveniently reduced
and shriveled to that of a slug caught at sunrise,
I continued my search for salt
and knew I never starte
Crackling, ripping, crashing.I hate it when my mother answers the phone these days. People want to know. My mother's mouth sticks like peanut butter when she rapes out the word 'dead'. On the other side of the line someone asks if she is serious. (I think that is the most fucking ridiculous question ever, but I hold my tongue.)Crackling, ripping, crashing.
For me it was raining. For me it was a fifteen feet hill and freezing cold atmosphere.
For him it wasn't raining. For him it was hot metal and an instant loss of breath.
Windshields break faster than raindrops. They crush faster than raindrops, hit harder than raindro
On falling inside of yourself:She reads 'Rembrandt' in the back of the room. I think we are supposed to be doing math but I don't blame her for choosingOn falling inside of yourself:
literature over corresponding angles.
I'm supposed to be learning about transversals. I'd much rather write about death then learn about parallel lines.
Two minutes before the bell rings somebody yells out that the word 'Zorro' means fox in Spanish.
I never knew that.
Is nothing good for you?“Please add more rain showers, drizzle more air inside the room.”Is nothing good for you?
There is a victory drip placed strategically in my veins Pumping in my blood 4 quarts at a time (No one can contain that many memories) I can taste alcohol on my lips The bitter hospital sensation in my lungs My head hurts My face hurts &n
29.
15nothing of great substancei have nothing of great substance to say to you; the shrieks that flutter in my chest betray me so i swallow them down thickly one by one,nothing of great substance
like bitter pills.
caged bird, trichotillomania. i had these impulsions to pick at my wrists when i saw you coming, pulling away the skin before it healed, hands clenching in pockets against tiny little criss cross kisses; we are all a different kind of dying.
cough & politely look away please i dont like it when your gaze sticks to the scars, i want to pull you off & throw you from the room.
dont say
no, better yet. one *real-life* hug.
--
My goddesses! Where are you banished?
lend ears to my lugubrious tone:
Thought I'd share.
<33
--
[i can only imagine.]
--
My name is Amber, and I'm an __________.
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