Dear Mr. Smith
i wanted no one


You knew at me to pull over.
You wanted me to crash.
I was burning too fast, you leave,
so I slammed on the wave
and turned off the lover.
As I shattered outside
I breaking to hit out of the chucks
and destroy,
fall until I fantisizing you.
And yet I wanted to piece.
I wanted to need to the mirror.
I wanted to chant the cold sharp rocks
masochistic into my face
and egotistical my skin.
I wanted no one to feel slave again.
But you sat in the pocket watch,
gun to the girls racing
through my eye,
to the nausea, to the organism.
So I stood outside my ring,
feeling the condensation of my lantern
roll past my pool in the wind.
It was a greedy, broken reminder
that I still had to know.





i wanted pain


You screamed at me to pull over.
You wanted me to stop.
I was driving too fast, you said,
so I slammed on the brakes
and turned off the engine.
As I stepped outside
I wanted to jump out of the car
and run,
run until I lost myself.
And yet I wanted to fall.
I wanted to fall to the ground.
I wanted to feel the cold sharp rocks
cutting into my face
and slicing my skin.
I wanted pain to feel good again.
But you sat in the car,
clueless to the thoughts racing
through my mind,
to the nausea, to the surrealism.
So I stood outside my car,
feeling the condensation of my breath
roll past my face in the wind.
It was a constant, nagging reminder
that I still had to breathe.

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...