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[ange516]

Poem 9/29

I smile with my eyes towards strangers on the street

Only if they seem like they’d know how to pleat

A little girls hair into braids with gentle movement

It will never cost a dime to assume someone’s sweet

To think that they care when I offer

The light camel packs and a rusty lighter

A conversation that couldn’t ever falter

Streets meant to be walked and exalted 

The days melt and boil the people who stay

Glued to the concrete in a unique dismay

Nowhere to go and all day to play 

The drugged girls and red vomit all over display

I remember a time when I needed a smoke

A couple of dollars or to be left alone

A smile from a man when I gave correct change

Cause he knew what it was to be terribly broke

Now there is a wonder which consumes

Realized the silent killer of old gas fumes 

From rigmaroles and sinners alike

They once felt the bricks where I put out my light

It’s a world brand new I’ve just received

Gaining sentience among whores and thieves

Rapers and takers clog the streets

With blood from onlookers unable to speak

It scares the sunlight out of my mind

Rays into corners suppressed and dying

Another breath of smog and perhaps

I won’t notice fluorescents filling the gaps

There is no honest recollection

Of another place that held my smile

The warmth I found from the communal sweat 

Is worth the couple wandered miles

[ange516]

I live with my dad, he feels like Foucault

A watch dog on the other side of the door

He clears his throat to remind me

That my own will always suffer in silence

And I left my dishes, I just remembered

He’ll probably pop another vein

I wonder what he’s making while I

Stay away from the flame

He’s blue and red and my policeman

And I’ve been thinking it works

But behind my door I let the blue handle

And red blade release my core

Is that why, is that why? I can’t understand

How my face will flinch when they lift a hand

When tears won’t form in front of men

Why I need to be born again

I can’t be a burden much more

22 will start knocking down the doors

Catch a breath and swim to shore

He knows I drag myself down

[ange516]

As the smell of cumin fills the breeze

Of inhalation that floods my need

To heal from this and to somehow see

The blueprint of what she left for me

I wear the faded purple apron she gave

Back when I was her little slave

When I rolled so good I should be paid

For the inflictions of the bed she made

But I’m bitter now as I feel the ache

Of my back and how long it takes

For the rice to soak and the spices wake

With the spirit they know and break

Made to serve and do it well

So no one around us can tell

The screen of imperfection always fell

As you try to ignore the smell

[ange516]

Human after all.

[ange516]

wonder if you sailed the nile

would you still be in denile

of the currents that keep you senile

and forced to stay in bed

wonder if you fled to southern

lands full of incandescence

could you go some further distance

ride until you start to listen

to the skies as they turn red

maybe then I’d get an answer

of why he’d refused to dance

and let me know when to save the trance for another day

because my words will flee to your spirit

ricochet off your millions

of eyes and ears begging for your games

I’m just a girl who likes the trains

Who took the wrong fork and but stays in lanes

Who’ll talk to you like a ghost with chains

And I need go to bed

[ange516]

I can’t seem to find the passion for living. Where did it go? It’s not like it’s easily replaceable. Anyway. I can’t remember the last time I was healthy. Isn’t it funny how time flies fast when you rot; I think I’m finding the memoirs of a corpse.

[ange516]

Saving for later :)

Writing Challenges

// 12 writing prompts designed to help you practice difficult types of writing

➼ Write a short story with an unreliable narrator

➼ Write either a short story or a chapter of a story in a genre you’ve never written in before

➼ Re-write a chapter of a story you’ve already written from the perspective of the antagonist

➼ Is there a particular type of scene you always struggle with? Write that!

➼ Set a timer for 20 minutes and write a complete scene. Try not to get bogged down with the editing and perfecting, just start writing and see where it goes :)

➼ Write a short story with a major plot twist (that’s still believable)

➼ Write a character the reader is meant to hate passionately

➼ Write a character the reader is meant to love

➼ Write story arcs for the above 2 characters that makes the reader feel the opposite to how they started (love the character they hated, hate the character they loved)

➼ Switch character perspectives at least 3 times in a short story

➼ Write a story in 1000 words or less. And I mean 1000 words or less. Seriously. No overwriting. I’m watching you.

➼ Write a character who’s very different from you

[ange516]

Peace of Mind

I’ve lived inside the barrel, dove head first into rabbit holes, stapled my tongue out of boredom in sixth grade; never knowing when the innate curiosity would wear off, when patience wore too thin and all the telephone wires collapsed in the tornadoes. Back when I could walk outside and know where I was with my eyes tight shut, and I could fall asleep in seconds if I felt safe. 

Are there still a million bottles on the shoreline, waiting to be read, eventually slipping back into the tide? By the time mine reaches, my ink will have turned to dust. Corks will give and the bottle will become a fish playground, with colorful moss eating whatever's left. What will be left? Are my lows not enough to keep a glimpse of remorse, an act of attrition I was once forced to learn? 

It’s been years since I’ve listened to myself, I think. Told my mind to shut up and never looked back, with all the psychedelics scarring my legs and making me laugh. Still, I’ve felt peace. Peace with the state of now and then, of ignorance and want, of opening and closing whatever doors because they all look the same. And now my breathing is labored, my throat tight in dismay of morrow, my crown blessed by my mothers devotion to Mary. 

Rest is my only wish.