deepundergroundpoetry.com

vandalism ~ a series of poems written for lachlan

we speak through
my front door,
empty words
hollow voice
vacant expression
 
i like to think
we're sitting
back to back
with the peeling paint
between us
 
but you're beating
an enraged tattoo,
hollering
whiskey drenched insults,
same old same, daddy
 
just like yesterday
//
 
vandalism ii  
 
 
i wore the impressions
of your self control issues,
contused bracelets  
adorning my ligaments
in forget-me-not hues  
{i could not find them  
beautiful}
as i would any other  
rage kissed reminder
of distorted affection  
caught in  
the looking glass  
of past mistakes,
the unending reflection  
repetition
repetition
repetition
repetition
echoing ad infinitum  
thru the endlessness
of thought & deed  
& treading lightly
where i've walked before  
*
it may have been my  
concussed emotion,  
the punch drunk
sway between love
& hate & that
fine line of  
resentment
that divides the two
.
.
.
i took  
one perfect step
//
 
vandalism iii
 
iii.
it was easier than i thought  
to sever connective tissue,  
those fragile filaments i'd
allowed to stretch inward  
& bury themselves bone deep.  
can't say the excision hurt  
tho i am  
a little more scarred.  
 
ii.  
dear you,  
playing at war
while i  
wave sheaves
at the heavens
{white flags  
crying peace  
with myself}
pages  
& pages
& pages  
of restoration.  
i am not neutral.  
i am meek  
no longer  
surrendering to  
the eternal fight .
 
i.  
fuck off.  
that is all.
//
 
vandalism iv  
 
i can tell you this since  
my ribs unknitted  
from my lungs  
to frame the vacancy
you'd filled with  
a little pulse
& snuffed before she  
took her first breath
 
i can tell you the ache  
never fades,  
a recrimination,
a testament to weakness
whenever i glance  
a subtle swell & wish upon  
never ever maybes  
for could have beens
& never will haves
you took from me  
without a half thought  
 
broken bones mend  
 
but i am yet to heal
//
 
vandalism v
 
iii.
it's uncanny how  
going thru the motions  
can appear the same  
as living  
when you've learned  
not to taste
glass & ash  
or feel the cold.  
i stumbled in  
the sterile aftermath
among cheerful walls
& that scent  
burning my nose  
until it blistered.
 
ii.
i spent six months
blind & deaf  
with my heart  
beating in my throat
& my foot  
nailed to the floor  
where the stain  
stubbornly clings
to the grout
{yes there
right there}
tho i poured  
bleach onto
blood memory
day after day  
after...  
 
i.  
you had  
the presence of mind  
to mop
& systematically
dismantle pastel murals,
i remain ungrateful
for your forethought
for taking it  
upon yourself  
to clean & break  
without rage  
//
 
vandalism vi
 
 
iii.  
there were war braids at your temple,
as though you  
knew my weakness for the strings
of beads that clinked together  
when you  
threw your head back  
& your throat corded in strain.  
 
ii.
events seem to
tangle together
reality & sleep born  
hallucinations
commingling
until i cannot
separate the two
& live with
both lies of  
your potential
 
i.
i lived with them once, those illusory moments  
when sun
met horizon & slipped into that thin envelope
between sky & land  
to be quenched by the ocean.  
it all looked so beautiful, i forgot how  
thin a membrane remains  
between confidence & narcissism
how quick it is to incinerate  
something precious.
//
 
vandalism vii
 
 
iii.
almost a full rotation of terra firm  
around infernal fire,
a montage of light & dark
& illusions of progress
of days & nights passing unhindered
by wounds  
time can't heal, emotions that wouldn't
heed the call to pause & reassess  
the stasis.  
i stopped to breathe & found that  
my lungs were no longer frozen by my  
lack of understanding, you were not
some puzzle to solve, just a lesson  
i didn't yet want to acknowledge.
 
ii.
the painful silence taught me to find my voice.
i had not spoken with my own tongue
for too long  
& had forgotten the quiet resonance of  
my little girl tone  
so at odds with the lush curve between breast & hip.
you tried to mute the dichotomy under my skin,
hush essential self  
until i fitted a form, pressed into the  
unnatural dimensions of someone i could never be.

i.
i birthed myself in one pivotal moment
kairos noted & answered by Him  
who remains my point of worship.
goodbye you.
//
 
_shadoe_
Written by _shadoe_ (katyusha)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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