Nonono.
I am counting your eyelashes inverted on your ruined cornea.
You say to me "Look, child, look—"
Though you and I will never see a thing,
You hid your eyes between fingers of steel and spiderweb fifty years ago,
Sky-scraped across your face like skidmarks
Crash//Burn.
Catch-22 eyelashes.
You display yourself in flickering neon lights,
Pooling in the hollows of the going-nowhere's necks
Dammit, you got them nowhere
You promised me,
You lied to me,
You and me and we are dying slowly
So help me god...
You count your ribs with something close to reverence--
Red and white and blue
Fifty stars for just fifty more pounds gone
Blood and bone and bruise
America, the beautiful.
You say to me, "Look, child, look—"
America, if you tell me one more time that the truth will set me free
I'll--
I don't wanna hear how two men can't hold hands
And I how can't be the president 'cause I'm a girl
And how that black kid and that white kid are dripping blood on the tired linoleum again
And how s/he/it shot the school up and down and everyone
Is now crying
Or dead.
I'd rather hide my eyes with my fingers, sky-scraped across my face like a car accident
While you claw feebly at the backs of my hands,
Whispering "Look child, look—"
Pointing at something that neither of us can see.
[Blind]
Poetry by Inked.
Read 2029 times
Written on 2005-10-08 at 02:25
Tags Sadness
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Dear America: I am Blind.
Dear America:I am counting your eyelashes inverted on your ruined cornea.
You say to me "Look, child, look—"
Though you and I will never see a thing,
You hid your eyes between fingers of steel and spiderweb fifty years ago,
Sky-scraped across your face like skidmarks
Crash//Burn.
Catch-22 eyelashes.
You display yourself in flickering neon lights,
Pooling in the hollows of the going-nowhere's necks
Dammit, you got them nowhere
You promised me,
You lied to me,
You and me and we are dying slowly
So help me god...
You count your ribs with something close to reverence--
Red and white and blue
Fifty stars for just fifty more pounds gone
Blood and bone and bruise
America, the beautiful.
You say to me, "Look, child, look—"
America, if you tell me one more time that the truth will set me free
I'll--
I don't wanna hear how two men can't hold hands
And I how can't be the president 'cause I'm a girl
And how that black kid and that white kid are dripping blood on the tired linoleum again
And how s/he/it shot the school up and down and everyone
Is now crying
Or dead.
I'd rather hide my eyes with my fingers, sky-scraped across my face like a car accident
While you claw feebly at the backs of my hands,
Whispering "Look child, look—"
Pointing at something that neither of us can see.
[Blind]
Poetry by Inked.
Read 2029 times
Written on 2005-10-08 at 02:25
Tags Sadness
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Christian Ward |
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she |
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Tyr-fira |
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John Ashleigh |
| Texts |
 by Inked. Latest textsThe Tulips All Have Died.Exit 129. Tire Fragments. Here You Are. Here I Am. Here We Were. 09-04-89 My favoritesThe Beech TreeTo the wind |
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