deepundergroundpoetry.com
wear me thin.
bottle half empty--a harsh buzzing
in my lips.
ashes burn my fingertips
and I wonder when cigarettes became a fucking aphrodisiac.
my nerves have carved letters into the desk,
past the paint, to the paler wood that's softer--more corruptable.
If you had any idea how much I hate waiting for you...
You'd just think I was a completely selfish bitch.
Bottle...half full.
I laugh to myself, taking another drink.
I am a fucking riot.
I choke, not on the drink.
I choke on my stomach thats jumped up into my throat--you're here.
I'm scared I'll tear you apart..
smother you like George did that pup in Of Mice and Men.
Too much love.
Or my resentment will boil over
bubble ooze seep over
I'll displace the anger from my father onto you...
years of waiting for him have torn at me.
and I'm waiting for you all the time.
I'll tell you that your mom needs to cut the fucking cord already.
It'll crush you because you're more fragile than you show.
A seedling pretending to be a full grown oak.
I could crush you in my palm and not have to wait for you ever again.
Or this could be the greatest thing ever.
three knocks on my door and my patience is wearing thin.
in my lips.
ashes burn my fingertips
and I wonder when cigarettes became a fucking aphrodisiac.
my nerves have carved letters into the desk,
past the paint, to the paler wood that's softer--more corruptable.
If you had any idea how much I hate waiting for you...
You'd just think I was a completely selfish bitch.
Bottle...half full.
I laugh to myself, taking another drink.
I am a fucking riot.
I choke, not on the drink.
I choke on my stomach thats jumped up into my throat--you're here.
I'm scared I'll tear you apart..
smother you like George did that pup in Of Mice and Men.
Too much love.
Or my resentment will boil over
bubble ooze seep over
I'll displace the anger from my father onto you...
years of waiting for him have torn at me.
and I'm waiting for you all the time.
I'll tell you that your mom needs to cut the fucking cord already.
It'll crush you because you're more fragile than you show.
A seedling pretending to be a full grown oak.
I could crush you in my palm and not have to wait for you ever again.
Or this could be the greatest thing ever.
three knocks on my door and my patience is wearing thin.
Published 16th Jan 2010
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Anonymous
17th Jan 2010 8:40pm
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18th Jan 2010 4:46am
so glad I found this site. Thank you for the comment- it means a lot to me. I'm looking forward to reading more of your writings.
15th Feb 2010 11:13pm
16th Feb 2010 4:32am
I don't think this is technically prose, I'd say it's a poem.
But with that said, this is wonderful. There's nothing like realizing that others get drunk and self-destructive over love too. It's comforting in a way. But I tend not to lash out at others. I'm more interested in beating myself down, rather than projecting anger outwards. It's a dangerous game either way, I feel.
But with that said, this is wonderful. There's nothing like realizing that others get drunk and self-destructive over love too. It's comforting in a way. But I tend not to lash out at others. I'm more interested in beating myself down, rather than projecting anger outwards. It's a dangerous game either way, I feel.
20th Jul 2011 4:41pm
I like the progression of the piece and how it leads you to an open-ended conclusion. Some nice lines and concepts in there; playing with the half-empty, half-full concept. I got a great image off of the George and Of Mice and Men reference.
I agree that the category choice is a little off but that's mostly irrelevant.
Nice, I like it.
I agree that the category choice is a little off but that's mostly irrelevant.
Nice, I like it.
