deepundergroundpoetry.com
Guns Are For Girls
One more swig,
Moonshine coasting fluently
down my throat,
most likely setting fire to my
esophagus.
The soothing taste
of the accompanying cigarette
I take a draw of
frosting and demolishing my
already second-rate
lungs.
My prior thoughts
of life and why I'm living it
gone.
Everything that has
happened over the last year
has escorted me
to this instant in time.
I scrutinize the
water, cerulean crests assulting
the rusty extension
that I clutch before plunging
downward again.
At one time or
another, this outlook was appealing
for both it's
delicacy and foulness that it concocted
together.
Now, it is
appealing for a completely different
reason.
My foot chafes
the exposed, bottomless air that
hangs before me.
The ripples below
taunt me graciously, daring the
other foot to
hop out and join the other.
Soon, but the
oppertunity is not quite here yet
my dear.
Cars of all
kinds surge behind my back,
entirely heedless
to the thoughts accelerating
through my mind
and the adrenaline pulsating
through my veins.
Every single person
who crosses this bridge is unknowingly
witnessing an act
of sheer confussion and affliction.
We are all connected
with one another while never actually
connecting.
Lives intersect, drawn
with fate and destiny, used to guide
each person to
where they belong.
This is where
I belong.
I know that
everyone who has driven behind
me has noticed me
over here, but none of them have
even tried to
come over and talk to me.
A sign that
I'm exactly where I'm supposed
to be.
The bottle I
once held in my grip
drops down below,
wet from my sweaty palms,
it dips under
the current without even a
struggle.
My cigarette is
burnt out, much more like
myself than I'll
ever actually admit, so I
let it slip
from my grasp as well.
The only thing
left is to let myself slip,
let go of
the fragment of lucidity
I'm desperatley clasping
onto.
One finger after
the other, I pry them off of
the reality I
hold onto, until I'm englufed
in the ripping
current and a few screams that
aren't that audible
from my position.
Plunging,
Splashing,
Smothering,
Sluggish,
Hollow,
Flat,
L i f e l e s s.
Moonshine coasting fluently
down my throat,
most likely setting fire to my
esophagus.
The soothing taste
of the accompanying cigarette
I take a draw of
frosting and demolishing my
already second-rate
lungs.
My prior thoughts
of life and why I'm living it
gone.
Everything that has
happened over the last year
has escorted me
to this instant in time.
I scrutinize the
water, cerulean crests assulting
the rusty extension
that I clutch before plunging
downward again.
At one time or
another, this outlook was appealing
for both it's
delicacy and foulness that it concocted
together.
Now, it is
appealing for a completely different
reason.
My foot chafes
the exposed, bottomless air that
hangs before me.
The ripples below
taunt me graciously, daring the
other foot to
hop out and join the other.
Soon, but the
oppertunity is not quite here yet
my dear.
Cars of all
kinds surge behind my back,
entirely heedless
to the thoughts accelerating
through my mind
and the adrenaline pulsating
through my veins.
Every single person
who crosses this bridge is unknowingly
witnessing an act
of sheer confussion and affliction.
We are all connected
with one another while never actually
connecting.
Lives intersect, drawn
with fate and destiny, used to guide
each person to
where they belong.
This is where
I belong.
I know that
everyone who has driven behind
me has noticed me
over here, but none of them have
even tried to
come over and talk to me.
A sign that
I'm exactly where I'm supposed
to be.
The bottle I
once held in my grip
drops down below,
wet from my sweaty palms,
it dips under
the current without even a
struggle.
My cigarette is
burnt out, much more like
myself than I'll
ever actually admit, so I
let it slip
from my grasp as well.
The only thing
left is to let myself slip,
let go of
the fragment of lucidity
I'm desperatley clasping
onto.
One finger after
the other, I pry them off of
the reality I
hold onto, until I'm englufed
in the ripping
current and a few screams that
aren't that audible
from my position.
Plunging,
Splashing,
Smothering,
Sluggish,
Hollow,
Flat,
L i f e l e s s.
Published 25th Sep 2011
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25th Sep 2011 5:53am
25th Sep 2011 5:55am
