hatred and all its rewards …it don’t make polite conversation does it? my pain, your upset, our suffering? instead, it hangs like embers barely starting a fire--- they don’t got use for you unless you’re willing to wear your scars like a crown on your battered skull--- no one can relate unless you tell them to, unless you remind them to… it’s easy when you smell of lavender and lament it’s easy then, cause then the jumbled words make sense, your pain makes sense it makes fucking sense to make pain into art art into praise and praise into love--- I’ll love you until I don’t I’ll fuck you until you leave I’ll cry until I sleep I’ll die and wake up and wonder, where the words went…? like viruses there’s a cavity funeral that offers my teeth a good rot--- seeps crimson spume from the head of my open wounds--- breathes amid teeth and sends glaciers in dreams--- I blame nightmares on my lack of simple pleasures--- ---I’m daggered, caffeinated & fist-fucked--- trying to bargain revenge & touch the secret of the Big Bang--- inside sodden cracks, we run our tongues on tree trunks--- recalling that in our centers we share infinitesimal design--- sweet slumber it's life little girl, all these emotions play the game and rest take lots of naps, eat good food move your body if you can make it good for fucking laugh hard and long as if it's fuel take long walks and cry settle down wear clothes that you can move around in wear clothes that make your waves full you mountains peak show them where your mouth is paint it nude red purple blue & pink and shout from it smile from it be sore from it kiss from it but be careful when you fall catch the red flags and move along don't wait 99 days to make a decision open up like poisonous Bloodroot sap and make them suck from your incision play your way it's your life anyway remember that it's all pretend that you're in control and if you truly want to you can make it good until it's not 90’s sadness it's funny how we deal... we shove medication down our throats, everything down our throats, as if the electricity in our thoughts can be cured... don't bend our words we can do that fine ourselves... don't you know don't you fucking know, we must be admired, rare & repulsive...? don't look at us like that! we heard your words leave your eyes... we heard the temperature in your voice... you're sick of us, we know... but we have the best laugh you say, it wakes the dead... we laugh some more... we've fooled you all... we can smell our own we know you're close, we send dark clouds like lightning... ...and torch you till you taste like centuries Bio: Ingrid is a Salvi refugee residing in Historic Filipinotown. Her work has been featured in Leste Mag, Electric Cereal, Drunk Monkeys, velvet-tail, amongst others…Her third full-length poetry book 'Zenith' is out now through Editions Du Cygne. She writes through guided ethos or some fleeting alien-hand syndrome and tries to make the jumbled mess in her head, into verse. She hopes it resonates. Comments are closed.
|
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
December 2023
Categories |