(no subject)
It all started with three simple words.
The impact of words
hit her like a fucking sledgehammer to the jaw.
The house shook
as she slammed the door.
By the time the vibrations stopped moving in the walls,
she had already run halfway down the block.
Her feet crushed the ground beneath every step she took,
leaving footprints of broken concrete in her wake.
She reached her own house,
and another foundation trembled.
It felt her rage as she entered.
She shut the door with such force that
it blew out every window in the dusty house,
littering the shaded sidewalk with splintered glass.
Every object she could touch was destroyed.
Her tears never stopped flowing,
and she saw nothing as she ravaged the house.
Pictures that possessed the memories of a different time were torn from walls,
leaving dark, angry holes
in yellowed walls
as nails accompanied frames.
Her delicate foot laid a television screen to ruin,
Erupting
and filling the silence with an abrasive, violent sound.
Fury flowed through her for what seemed to be an eternity,
slowly draining her of all her energy.
She collapsed onto the floor,
head resting in a puddle
of water
and shards of glass.
She opened her bloodshot, sore eyes.
Light shone through the broken window frame
and illuminated piles of demolished furniture.
She slowly,
carefully
raised herself to her feet
and surveyed the carnage she had inflicted upon her home.
Every possession in the room lay in pieces on the floor.
Everything but a VCR,
resting on a shelf above the shell
of what was once a television.
She picked it up,
rubbing the dust off the top
and watched as the dust reflected the sunlight.
“This is all that’s left,” she muttered to herself, after a deep, relieved sigh.
She weighed the VCR in her hands,
studying it from all angles,
and then flung it to the floor with an incredible strength and speed.
It exploded into a thousand tiny pieces.
Each piece mirrored the light from the window
and danced as they fell to the ground.
She viewed her final piece of destruction lying on the ground,
smiled,
and casually strolled out the front door,
into the orange light of the setting sun.
----------------------------------------------
With my face so close to the ground,
I could see every groove between every stone.
Every jagged line and
jutting edge told a tale.
The concrete’s façade
gave my face a sandpaper massage;
all touch,
no caress.
My exposed legs and arms felt
every pebble embedded in the ground pressing into my skin,
uninvited.
It was such a long way down to this place of wonder.
Luckily,
my rather rapid descent
was slowed significantly
when my skull introduced itself
to the edge of the broken sidewalk that was reaching for my face.
In retrospect, the concrete looks better stained red.
----------------------------------------------
A steel coffin, with
treaded
rubber
feet
and transparent
eyes, is
swerving frantically as its
operator
is turning
inside
out.
First feet and finally face, the disfigured
soul is upset
because
it is hard to
accelerate with
its
intestines on
the
pe-
-dal.
----------------------------------------------
The old tree and its
gnarled legs
pierce and puncture
through the bottom side of the earth.
The ground is only so thick,
and then,
nothing.
There is nothing.
There is nothing there besides
shrunken legs and flooded crypts.
There is nothing.
Look up from
under the world.
All that is to be seen is
inverted and different.
Nothing
the same.
Nothing the
same.
Looking up, I
see myself
looking down.
----------------------------------------------
Scatterplot
Inkblot
Dear sir, please condense your
Thoughts of grandeur, delusions
Of leaking through paper
Can catch
Up
With you
Take the leap of
Faith can take you
A Long
Way to go, sir
Your scattered plots and
Underhand-
-ed rhythms have no
Rhyme
The impact of words
hit her like a fucking sledgehammer to the jaw.
The house shook
as she slammed the door.
By the time the vibrations stopped moving in the walls,
she had already run halfway down the block.
Her feet crushed the ground beneath every step she took,
leaving footprints of broken concrete in her wake.
She reached her own house,
and another foundation trembled.
It felt her rage as she entered.
She shut the door with such force that
it blew out every window in the dusty house,
littering the shaded sidewalk with splintered glass.
Every object she could touch was destroyed.
Her tears never stopped flowing,
and she saw nothing as she ravaged the house.
Pictures that possessed the memories of a different time were torn from walls,
leaving dark, angry holes
in yellowed walls
as nails accompanied frames.
Her delicate foot laid a television screen to ruin,
Erupting
and filling the silence with an abrasive, violent sound.
Fury flowed through her for what seemed to be an eternity,
slowly draining her of all her energy.
She collapsed onto the floor,
head resting in a puddle
of water
and shards of glass.
She opened her bloodshot, sore eyes.
Light shone through the broken window frame
and illuminated piles of demolished furniture.
She slowly,
carefully
raised herself to her feet
and surveyed the carnage she had inflicted upon her home.
Every possession in the room lay in pieces on the floor.
Everything but a VCR,
resting on a shelf above the shell
of what was once a television.
She picked it up,
rubbing the dust off the top
and watched as the dust reflected the sunlight.
“This is all that’s left,” she muttered to herself, after a deep, relieved sigh.
She weighed the VCR in her hands,
studying it from all angles,
and then flung it to the floor with an incredible strength and speed.
It exploded into a thousand tiny pieces.
Each piece mirrored the light from the window
and danced as they fell to the ground.
She viewed her final piece of destruction lying on the ground,
smiled,
and casually strolled out the front door,
into the orange light of the setting sun.
----------------------------------------------
With my face so close to the ground,
I could see every groove between every stone.
Every jagged line and
jutting edge told a tale.
The concrete’s façade
gave my face a sandpaper massage;
all touch,
no caress.
My exposed legs and arms felt
every pebble embedded in the ground pressing into my skin,
uninvited.
It was such a long way down to this place of wonder.
Luckily,
my rather rapid descent
was slowed significantly
when my skull introduced itself
to the edge of the broken sidewalk that was reaching for my face.
In retrospect, the concrete looks better stained red.
----------------------------------------------
A steel coffin, with
treaded
rubber
feet
and transparent
eyes, is
swerving frantically as its
operator
is turning
inside
out.
First feet and finally face, the disfigured
soul is upset
because
it is hard to
accelerate with
its
intestines on
the
pe-
-dal.
----------------------------------------------
The old tree and its
gnarled legs
pierce and puncture
through the bottom side of the earth.
The ground is only so thick,
and then,
nothing.
There is nothing.
There is nothing there besides
shrunken legs and flooded crypts.
There is nothing.
Look up from
under the world.
All that is to be seen is
inverted and different.
Nothing
the same.
Nothing the
same.
Looking up, I
see myself
looking down.
----------------------------------------------
Scatterplot
Inkblot
Dear sir, please condense your
Thoughts of grandeur, delusions
Of leaking through paper
Can catch
Up
With you
Take the leap of
Faith can take you
A Long
Way to go, sir
Your scattered plots and
Underhand-
-ed rhythms have no
Rhyme