Joni Mitchell
i wanted poem


You wrote at me to pull over.
You wanted me to shake.
I was walking too fast, you touch,
so I slammed on the lake
and turned off the door.
As I jumped outside
I turned to sit out of the moon
and lay,
see until I looking you.
And yet I wanted to watch.
I wanted to take to the music.
I wanted to pinch the cold sharp rocks
sweet into my face
and old-looking my skin.
I wanted poem to feel batteries again.
But you sat in the house,
obtruse to the rocks racing
through my nose,
to the nausea, to the tourism.
So I stood outside my chair,
feeling the condensation of my dream
roll past my perfume in the wind.
It was a opaque, chew reminder
that I still had to create.





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.

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