literature

Calea

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Literature Text

She's brewing that tea
from the island
that grabs your hair
and pulls you into
the street. I'd drink
it to get rid of
my wild dogs; all that
lonely guilt and
happy memories,
with more in my year
before the steam catches
our senses. Time is less
of a straight line
and more of a blowtorch.
It seals us up before
we can flaunt our disease.
A paranoid schizophrenic
doesn't know he's sick; the junkie
believes what he says.
We nakedly trust our eyes
we nakedly trust our bodies.
It's all enough to kill a storm
and make a coat
from its hair.
My blue-green iris
grows with my mouth
on tiny strings
and tiny thoughts
as my body drinks,
and drinks,
and drinks.
Pushing, pushing, pushing.

Made a couple changes to the second half, it feels good to review work that you feel has potential.
© 2013 - 2024 FallingAsleepTonight
Comments14
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TheAntiAnti-Drug's avatar
Especially in the beginning, I feel like I'm reading my own life. 0;
Or living someone else's life.
Nice.