the air smells wrong tonightor is it just in your head?is tonight the night it happens?would you be ready if it was?it's hard to stay alert when your chest has rocks in itand your eyelids, pebbles
it feels like a murky purple outsidethen suddenly, red behind youa muffled, malicious whisperbut when you turn aroundthe night is only purpledark and putrid, like a bruise
slip your key between your knuckleslike a helpless knifeand keep tripping over stilettosinto the night
About the Creator
Julia Corrado
Young storyteller.
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American Citizen
wash me in burger grease and lightly salt mean American baptismsecluded in the Church walls of an old RVconvert me into a Backyard Barbecue BelieverI want to drown in the Independence Day pool partycleanse me of my olive skinbleach me with chlorine and hot dog juicestuff me with a new mind like a Thanksgiving Turkeymy old heart is as valuable as that of an artichokeI want to feel the caloric buzz in my bloodstreamI want to be the last foot marching in the paradeI want to fade into the crowd, the angry mob, the happy peopleI want to be no one but a collective entityI'll kill the foreignerto feel alive here
By Julia Corrado7 years ago in Poets
Thoughts on Vocal and the way the world is
"Death cannot stop true love, only delay it." – Wesley in The Princess Bride. I decided to come back to Vocal on a very cold and dark night at the end of December. I had been, and still am, convalescing from a horrible staph infection that had gone misdiagnosed for months. This, paired with the increasing challenges of being healthy, making the best choices for my co-parented child, being a wife, and being a director at a new job, was a lot to manage.
By Jazzy 2 days ago in Confessions
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