What the Water Gave Me
And what was discovered
If you like poetry, or poor attempts at scathing blog posts, refer yourself here and feast thine eyes!
Hanging Thoughts: Cigarette Poetry
cigarette limp
in an unsteady hand
while feet pace
down the dark
and lonely street
the smell clings
to the tendrils
of fire like hair
as ashes fall
in the dark
on soft, clean linen
laying against the pillow
smells of your skin
and being
“wish you were here”
tears fall slowly
reality is breathed
through filthy lungs
sharp intakes of sadness
hang in silence
3:37 AM
What runs through my mind at this hour:
Rampant
you’re annoying
but i don’t seem to care
i still laugh at your
clever and yet somehow still lazy
comments
and i still let your eyes
meet mine
as they crinkle and brighten at your
supremely uncouth joke
during a lecture on
sexuality and feminism
which, according to you
“runs rampant” on this campus
and although that comment
makes my blood boil
in an unbridled and
charged way,
so do you
and i would not mind
running rampant
by your side through the campus
considering
you already “run rampant”
through my mind
Anonymous asked - "Were you just laying on one of the benches in the art building"
I don’t…really understand this question…but no, at no time was I laying on any benches in the art building. Hope that clears that up?
