internet poetry
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I dream of a New York apartment. Ceiling-to-floor windows, a torrent of light. I can’t see anything in all this optimism. Can’t make outthe shape of my own demise anymore. Can’t think of a better way to die. My body dressesitself and clockworks its way to work and back.20,000 days to go before a final
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Can’t draw ink from an empty well.Can’t speak when I mean nothing.Don’t, then. Eyes rolling like heads,teeth clenched shut like iron girders,I live through life, distant. The futureis already here. She takes up too much space and now I don’t know how to write anymore. Nothingflows when you’ve dug deep enough.It’s time to get your
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For I. Under the warm pillowy cover of night my hand stirs and reaches for yours. If we kept sleeping this way, limb to limb, our palms the interchange of our veins, our quiet thoughts; or the ones that scream at us every day, as we walk by doing nothing but existing; or thosethat bark
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In recent months I have beenabandoned by sadness. Moreaccurately, I have left her behind. No more the plucking of leavesfrom her overgrown crown, herlaurel of memory. She would not let me go – a root, tangled aroundan arm. My fingers planted in the bark. As a trade, I had to cut off my tongue, toss
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Door shut. Silent afternoon.Mother, couch. Phone, charging, candy crushing comic reading quiet waiting. One call. No answer.Two calls.No answer. Please, come, sit down. Rare visitor appears again.He wraps his handsaround fists.Bald brotherstanding unsteadyvoice trickling into phone. Answer muffled.Breakfast cold, voices unsteady,mother trickles within kitchen. Locked out. No context. I sit in silence. Shut afternoon.Quiet, rare.Couched
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The flowers on my balcony bloombut shed their petals in a week. The floor is now an aftermath. I sweep up the shredded whiteand place them into the soil.I live so comfortably well that I only have to kill once in a while.An ant, a spider. A wayward fly. Tonight I will sleep without guilt.Tomorrow,
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Glad to say that my poem, “Statistics in Search of Structure” was published recently in OF ZOOS. Check out the poem here! http://ofzoos.com/8.1=ValenLim.html
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Stressland stressland stressland stressland Children memorising endless numbersland Unpublished mental health statisticsland No such thing exists as a poverty lineland Stressland stressland stressland stresslandLaws and statutes lining the sidewalkland Houses so tall they swallow in shadowland Fall in and/or jump out of an airplaneland Stressland stressland stressland stresslandWhere the points don’t matter but actually they
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Prompt courtesy of Max Pasakorn: “fairy lights” In the halls of my dreamscape there is a endless room, dressedin fairy lights and photos of the days when we were not split apart by the axe of time. I hearsoft music, sneaking its way in-between bed-sheets, and it is night-time, and we are surroundedby ourselves and
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If a body is a pocket of possibilities thenmine is full of change. These past few weeks, I have rediscovered discovery. redrawn all the lines. O Joy –my days are a loopthat begin and end with saying your name.My days are polaroid photos dangling light from twine-vined walls.There are too many thingsI want to send
ugly stage 