February 2011



Never ignore your poetry blog .
It knows where you sleep.


Monday, April 13, 2009

Visions of conjoined twins

He waits in lines,
she waits in circles.

You're a junky wripped from my chest
Like we were conjoined twins sharing one heart,
one pair of lungs and you were the twin that had the mouth and
the smile and the face looking outward.
I just focused on the heart begged it not to stop for you, not for me,
I forgot it was mine, too.

I just remember sounds, non significant underwater murmurs,
concentrating on keeping you afloat with breath.

Ya, I'd like a flower for that.
Maybe a plant? Or we could go to the beach and collect shells?

Maybe one day you would actually walk my pace in public and look at me like
Im not some brand you trust but a person.

who thinks I want a diamond ring, a diamond dildo I don't fucking know, some stuff.
Still waiting for you to walk next to me in public
Or kiss me when I am totally awake

Or catch me staring at you, for once
You've never dreamed of me like I dreamed of you.

2 comments:

trudatman said...

I disagree with almost all of it, but I can't convince you of the logic of each part, like the fact that my legs are long, so I walk fast. "whim," "damn," "junkie," "ripped." good use of "nescience," though. I had to look that one up, which was nice.

trudatman said...

oh, and you NEVER let me kiss you. not even privately together, at night. I started really staring at you when I couldn't get any information from you. I tried to read you through osmosis -- trying to devine answers to my questions with telepathy or facial clues, like dream braille.