One

I am keen on one-word poems, but this is the dilema:
I am just me, invisible. Silly girl, brain in the wrong place,
wishful lazy one-worder poet. You know.

I mean, would 4′33″ have been taken seriously if it wasn’t by
that fucking genius master
John Cage?

Rules my house

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Gemma

Gemma

Originally uploaded by Danny Roberts

dent

on a bare chest there is a strange hollowed out space, just underneath where his heart is. like someone knocked a hammer sharply to a flimsy piece of tin, making a clean dip in smooth metal. i can hold two fingers there and feel, barely, a heartbeat. it sounds more like a birds beat than a teenagers. the bottom of it. my fingers fit that dent perfectly. it isn’t tender, but i always touch it gingerly, like it’s made of paper and something else soft and intriguing.

the last two months: a succinct summary

GO GO GO!!!

nearly over

i reached inside my skull,
searching amongst the neurons, tissue and memories
looking for somehing to say but

all i could come up with was how

haikus

are getting really fucking tiresome.

Smarting, still

I’m not sure when it started, when we suddenly decided that no words were
the best words.

I’m not sure what I did to make you think that I deserved to be treated like something temporary, unneeded.
You tossed me away like I was a little squeaking toy: Cheap and in need of a loving hand, bent me at tortured angles.

I’m not sure at what point I saw you as the mess you were, and

I’m not sure if, at any time, you were someone to call ‘friend’, ‘companion’, ‘likable‘.