Oh, you are a skillful one, aren't you? CeePeeing:
and the time is ticking down for you
when the bike riding and hanging out
and the candy wrappers still mean something
only four years away and it will all be traded
in by some deranged time keeper, keeping your
sand so accountable. somehow though you're wasting
it. crushing it under some angst that seems
to keep you from living. this is it. don't you
see(.)[?] this is the time when you have nothing
to do but embrace. and you are deafening the sound
of youth by all your whining and yelling. if you're
going to be dead set on not being happy. do it right.
just break it, snap it; the bone of your misery.
let it splinter into jagged slivers. flying into
eyes. stain us good; with the marrow of whatever
is making you this way. bleed it onto the fabric
of our family with such hurt that we moan and curl.
turning our own brightness into unrelenting haze.
if you have to dig so far into your own flesh
or my nerves. do it with some gumption. in one strike.
stab so intensely your whole arm reaches through the body.
if you have to be so horrible drowning us in anger
be the knife instead of its victim. be the water.
so you can't seem to get out of your own ache so
you walk around slumped and lazy and unmotivated.
just split it open and take it out. your heart.
look at it. is it still red? beating? in your
youth is it black and dead already?
stop this. half-assing it. just dive head first
right into the hole of you. and splatter.
any other type of fist waving just won't do.
every grain of sand is wasted(. isn't it?) - I'd yank this out, IMHO
with you breathing.
Double space between sentences? Makes it easier on the reader, thereby easier to get it published ... as it should be.
"It is with a strange malice / That I distort the world."
-- from The Weeping Burgher by Wallace Stevens
Profile Site of Patricia Gomes
