If Tony goes to sleep, he’ll never wake up alive
Staying awake forever is the only way to survive.
If he closes his eyes, he gives up his everlasting soul
And the floor will open up and swallow him whole.

The monster under the bed quietly waits for their chance,
And even though Tony is well versed in this dance,
He feels his eyes grow heavy, he wants to close them for a sec’
But that’ll only earn his parents yet another check.

Because the monsters pay moms and dads for each kid they eat
And with the economy today, it’s a deal that can’t really be beat
The monsters own the homes, and live in the bedroom floors
Parents give up the kids, so they don’t have to live outdoors.

Tony feels his eyes close, and the floor opens under his bed
He can sense he’s swallowed up, and soon teeth will crush his head
He’ll rot in the monster’s gut so his parents had a home to own,
But he’ll be with all his dead siblings, so at least he’s not alone.

2 months ago  /  0 notes

Why such harsh machinery?
Why, to write down the stuff
and people of every day,
must poems be dressed up in gold,
in old and fearful stone?

I want verses of felt or feather
which scarcely weigh, mild verses
with the intimacy of beds
where people have loved and dreamed.
I want poems stained
by hands and everydayness.

Verses of pastry which melt
into milk and sugar in the mouth,
air and water to drink,
the bites and kisses of love.
I long for eatable sonnets,
poems of honey and flour.

Vanity keeps prodding us
to lift ourselves skyward
or to make deep and useless
tunnels underground.
So we forget the joyous
love-needs of our bodies.
We forget about pastries.
We are not feeding the world.

—Pablo Neruda, “Sweetness, always”

2 months ago  /  0 notes

Aftermath

Now and then I think of when we were together
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
Told myself that you were right for me
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and it’s an ache I still remember

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness
Like resignation to the end, always the end
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I’ll admit that I was glad it was over

But you didn’t have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing
And I don’t even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough
No you didn’t have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number
I guess that I don’t need that though
Now you’re just somebody that I used to know

2 months ago  /  0 notes