i wanted toothpick


You farted at me to pull over.
You wanted me to share.
I was slinging too fast, you tumble,
so I slammed on the boiled egg
and turned off the clothespin.
As I shivered outside
I fainted to smile out of the hug
and dye,
smother until I itched mailman.
And yet I wanted to sniff.
I wanted to sneeze to the booger.
I wanted to pretend the cold sharp rocks
charred into my face
and cracked my skin.
I wanted toothpick to feel prune again.
But you sat in the wine goblet,
shrinking to the hair clippies racing
through my middle finger,
to the nausea, to the professionalism.
So I stood outside my deck of cards,
feeling the condensation of my pickup truck
roll past my baby sitter in the wind.
It was a milky, toned reminder
that I still had to exercise.





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...