Probably not as funny as I think I am
Insta @chloe_j_writes
almost missed my self- imposed deadline. I wonder, am I enough yet?
By Chloë J.3 years ago in Poets
I love you best in your death throes. Those fleeting few moments you cling, in resplendence, to survival. Seduction in a thousand shades.
the shadow people sit on their porch heedless of the season’s temperament. their murmurings drift down to me like a spell,
long dwelt I, forlorn, in the desert places, these cruel desolation lands. / I blamed the cacti, the sand-swept boneyards, in which
I. I have a way with language, according to my mother. I borrow and unravel the tongues of the far-away people. My greatest skill, though,
I beat the frozen ground, rended it with my stone fists but it couldn’t let me out / into the light of the gilded rays,
tally the burdens, steady, mundane vexations; they are proof of life.
How many bullets must run through the sieve? Shot in haste, hatred, shot in apathy, Catching, as they tumble, in children’s teeth,
It’s all there in the title: ‘A Poem a Day for the Month of May.’ That’s the plan. Not that anyone asked me to explain myself; this piece is more to keep me motivated. To remind me why I decided to try this now. Hint—it’s not just because ‘day’ and ‘May’ conveniently rhyme. Though that’s a plus.
By Chloë J.3 years ago in Journal
Brush off the tear and pretend I’m fine; you’ll pretend to believe me, How sweetly we lie, just you and I, Deception-shrouded captivity.
and just like that, I woke up— rubbing the Sandman’s butterfly kisses out of my eyes, the residue tinged with regret (but I couldn’t seem to flush it out).
darkness lives in the corners of my eyes, a saliferous, ephemeral monstrosity, waiting to devour me in thalassic absolution.
