Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers
cydniey

is this familiar?

does this sound familiar to anyone? i don't think i wrote it.

unremarkable baked lasagna
flavorless bread smeared with margarine
and sometimes it's the smells
or sometimes it's how she sounds
sometimes i can't even tell you
what takes me down the path
into the part of the forest the witches
don't even care about while
my mind slips and slides like i used to when
i would go to school and try to get hurt on the way
so i would lay in the street and they would be sorry
but that's not irony
that he was laying in the street
and it's not irony
that i was up to the challenge
and i can't relax
and i want to not be so
so
so i'm a bitch and then i think i feel bad
but i don't because i do it again
and it isn't irony the
way i'm walking in his shoes
and it isn't comfortable
that he's still in them
and i wait for her voice to remind me only of her
where everything happened before
and we are together after
after the growth starts again
after we are ready to at least try to trust someone
and it's not ironic that i can trust her
and it's not ironic she's from the east
then the lasagne is stuck in my teeth
and i even forget her smell
it is all suddenly the antiseptic
and you know it
when you went to the emergency room
that night you ODed
and you find yourself with your face
in the fabric softener to drive the smell away
because with each little flash
the dike is giving way
and it isn't time to cry yet
and it will never be time to relax
and my spine is wound like my watch
the one i overwound because someone told me i couldn't
so twisted so tight
so right below the surface
go ahead and pick a figt
i can take you and your stupid friends
i can leave you too
like you'll leave in the end
i want to lay in the green grass and look up at the stars
it is so different from looking up at the green ceiling
and it's gonna be a blast
seeing which side wins
and when i go down
don't take your eyes off of me
because i will go down

some of it seems completely mine, but details in it don't seem familiar, and why i wouldn't credit it is beyond me.
Tags: poetry
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