Call. text. think.

The definition of truth is a lie.
Looking into empty eyes;
– apart or together –
every moment
is a tremor
disturbed water
in a glass half
of half empty.
I suppose that would be
a glass 3/4 empty.
Does 1/4 full = optimistic
because you use the word, “full”?

I wanna tell you about love’s ugly
when you are broken and a mess.
When dark rooms aren’t dark
dark enough
so you keep eyes shut
doors shut
blinds shut
mouth shut.
Heart carcass in decay;
slow-sinking rotted pumpkin
hemorrhaging on the floor
gurgling, sputtering a siren shriek
to call,
text,
think of you.

Written Wednesday, May 2nd, 2012 @ The Living Room.

***

Jake and I hit up Seattle’s Annual Poetry Slam again this year.  As the poets spat out their conviction-laden words into the microphone, I scribbled down lines that tugged at something in me.  I used one of the lines as a prompt to write this poem.  The line?  “I wanna tell you about love’s ugly when you are broken and a mess.”  I didn’t catch the poet’s name.

(To read other poems I’ve written that germinated from poetry prompts, search for “poetryprompt” in the search box on the right.)

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