Tag Archives: poetry

Smells like Dreft

Used up and sucked dry,

my inhibitions discarded along with my placenta.

Who is this shirtless woman, carelessly loading a washing machine,

no consideration for mismatched colors.

Fabrics in need of special care must now fend for themselves.

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Filed under Feels like Sunday, I am a Mother

The slow night

Sleepless nights slowly fade into a waking dream called daytime

I carry my child from room to room, his cries rising and falling like a desperate tide

Cradled in my arms he searches for my breast, for sustenance, comfort

We fall asleep side by side, warm soft skin against my chest

Slow cries give in to calm

Breath steadies and falls into place

Sleep comes slow, lingers briefly and without patience

Is it Monday?

 

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Filed under Feels like Sunday, I am a Mother

Domesticity becomes me

The vacuum creates a pathway for me to follow, down the hall and off a cliff, obediently, blindly I follow. Ring around the toilet hypnotizes me, woosh, I am swirling down, away into the sewer, dark and damp I find a corner, grab a brush and get to scrubbing. A pile of laundry grows before me, a mountain of funky panties and grease stained jeans, becoming volcano like with an ominous reeking danger. Creep a little closer and peek over the edge to find a boiling mass of molten sweat socks, sulfur stinging my eyes. Douse the flames with Clorox and baking soda, Heloise knows all the right tricks. Dust bunnies make a mad dash for their burrows, herding their young and sacrificing the elderly and the decrepit along the way. I sweep up the skeletal remains and clumps of fur, filling my dust pan as I hum along with their low moans of despair and surrender. Pinning cool wet sheets on the clothesline like a fresh kill stretched out to dry in the sun, look at my accomplishments, aren’t they so white, so clean and pure?

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Filed under Feels like Sunday

Mascara, the cure for Insomnia

Things get creaky, the walls when I walk, the floor when I fall. A slow screech lingers in my head, invading the quiet, the dark. Sleepless nights, wandering around my house. Get up, piss, get some water, repeat 10 more fucking times until finally its morning and I can add some more pointless activities to this ridiculous routine. The heavy-headed dizziness of sleep deprivation overcomes me, becomes me. An hour of pilates awakens my limbs, filling my lungs with oxygen. Am I awake yet? Can you awaken when you never really go to sleep? A shower washes away the residue of the previous 24 hours of existence. Am I awake yet? Not really, no need to be. I will live forever in this halfway world between reality, dreams and unsleep. I paint a portrait of myself, intricately filling in every crevice and pore, sweep of eyebrow and curl of lash, smearing of red, the illusion of a mouth, an eye, a girl, a woman, a whore and a clown. Now I am here, I have arrived.

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Filed under Fashionably Unreasonable, Feels like Sunday, I am Pregnant, Uncategorized

lock the door

Unavailable now that I am conscious,

so very fucking conscious.

More present in my dreams, more accountable.

The inconsistencies of waking life,

make sense when I lock my door.

Behind the wall, underground and burrowed deep

into the wet earth, I tunnel through and around myself.

Becoming a man, a child, a mutant worm digesting itself,

copulation becomes disintegration, multiplying the existence of nothing.

 

 

 

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Filed under Feels like Sunday, I dreamed..., Uncategorized

inside out and spread on toast

Sometimes, I forget whose life I am living,

I get lost in the walls.

I scream inside myself, the silence much too loud,

the nothing that surrounds me much too confining.

Clothing too restricting, I strip naked, to no avail,

it must be my skin pulled tight, and I can’t get rid of that now can I?

Crawl into a hot bath, a dead cow, a crowded bus, my own swollen vagina.

Hide inside me, I heard it’s safe in there.

Open me up, spread me wide,

a donation box for your unwanted household goods.

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Filed under Feels like Sunday, I am Pregnant, Uncategorized

bedhead

I am inside out, repulsive and oozing.

I am a lazy motherfucker, I just slept past noon

and I have no plans for the day

except maybe a nap a little later.

I feel like I need to reserve more time just for dreaming,

I accomplish so much more inside my own head.

What do normal people do all day?

I was never normal but I know what I used to do all day.

I worked like a motherfucker and I certainly didn’t accomplish a goddamn thing.

Well, I do feel a little better about my current state of pajamas and bedhead now.

Nothing, it’s all nothing.

Now, if only I could smoke a fucking cigarette.

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Filed under Feels like Sunday

Rainy day orgasm

A rainy day makes life worth living, that alone. Everything makes sense when seen through clouded glass. The world seems to be a safer opponent, like catching a stranger in the shower with soap in their eyes, the threat of conflict diminished substantially. I feel like a child let loose, inhibitions and reservations washed away along with my eyebrows. I walk a little taller when I am soaked to my panties in cold rainwater. I splash in muddy puddles in my 4 inch heels and laugh at people clutching umbrellas rushing for cover. A rainy day feels right, like my insides are on display for everyone to see except that they are all too busy trying to stay dry to notice. I am inside out, I am a 10 foot smile, I am a screaming orgasm, I am a baby on fire, I am flying above you with the rain clouds and you have no idea because when was the last time you looked straight up into the rain?

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Filed under Uncategorized

I awaken with hesitation

The slow process of acceptance

stalls with contemplative pause,

moves forward in jerky hesitation

falls back momentarily,

panics at the sight of what is left behind.

A step backward, for comfort

pondering the situation,

the worthiness of this journey.

To step forward on weary legs

or fall into the waiting arms of predictability.

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Filed under Feels like Sunday, Uncategorized

fingernails

I want to walk in a town I have never been to, a town I don’t even know the name of. I want to simply appear somewhere without a plan, without any expectations. I want to wander aimlessly; free of trappings, burdens. Slip into dark corners without fear, without hesitation. Walk with the wind, comfortable and light. Embrace the warmth of the sun and fall naked beneath the glow of the moon. I want to feel the hard ground beneath me and know that it is real, that I am real, to know that I exist as an actual physical being with lungs, skin and fingernails.

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Filed under Feels like Sunday, I dreamed...