I’m a shining example of doing your worst. I’ve made my act
on the bones of the most glaring mistakes. Here I am, sheathed
in the bad side of my brain. Here I am, crashing full tilt
through the unsuspecting night.
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#poem #quote #electric cereal #put on a show for you #worst #alt lit #bad sideI feel ugly in a room this loud & unwilling / to speak at all.
I can wander outside my own body
to see who razed the city. What outline stayed.
If there are bones. Buildings. Gas cans.
half full of escape. An oracle
banished from the temple with no god
or knife or speech has no weapon
but herself.
this can’t be good
do you ever read a sentence abt someone you’ll never meet & feel it applies to someone you know too well
hypocrite-lecteur
“Killing moon and a spade in my fist.
I tell myself, be an open span of turned earth, a furrow
untapped by roots. Better to tell the truth
that comes when called, like blood becomes a lake
beneath the skin. All the concrete talk I’ve practiced, false;
the howl will always twist past teeth–
eager essential. No consonants rise
in my chest. Only stretched vowels that mean sinning.
Better to believe in a sprawling
loneliness, like a gutted city
or a river fat and falling over
damside. Better open up and say,
I am no better than a long and pealing
scream. Jagged,
how I crumpled under the August sky
hot with night birds, trilling.
When I deny that I’m wild
a once green part of me goes gray.
Little bones, white crumbled shells.
Little stones skipped across water,
only I can feel their ripples in my lungs.
Who told me to hide from the fierce spaces that built me?
Instinct won’t die by a bullet.
Won’t burn, bury
tame, or thrill, or
kill its young for food.”
Emily O’Neill, “We Are All Wolves”
