ifyourestillbreathingspellitout:
Just for you.
Unedited. All Rights Reserved.
Metal Holidays
Like black pavement canvas,
that lets us forget too much,
while trying to recover straight lines.
We play captured, like we know the meaning of
tortured.
Letting these handcuffs ride us out in army formation,
no matter the terrain,
just keep marching.
Play world wars, like monkey bars.
wrapping needle filled ropes around our wrists and
learn to like it.
It’s deseption’s weakest link,
and the unmarked fingertips relying on unknown,
it doesn’t make a dent.
We are just numbers,
lighting themselves up on holidays,
marking calendars to remind ourselves to
believe in something.
We have opinions shaped like crow bars,
guns to the back of our knees,
bruises marked with metal,
it’s blank skin that starts the fire,
in our stomachs.
Preparing our concave chest muscles to breathe
harder.
-Ali Carmitchel
We won’t know what it is
It only came to me recently
that at times we must have something to say.
A story to tell,
but also be read,
if a pen were enough we would never be looking.
It takes something special.
To even acknowledge the universe,
a concept that we can’t really grasp.
It’s ironic to promise forever
when it ended millions of years ago.
We have dead space,
full of moving energy,
a cloud of forevers and seconds.
Nothing ever fully ends or begins.
I hope to be traveling.
A bedroom with tea stained walls, pictures of paris, maybe black and white comforters, tapestries,
and something unmistakable hanging in the air.
It needs to be perfect,
defined by myself alone,
I will find loneliness.
Put it in a jar,
and keep it handy,
what an adventure.
I will stand by the windows, watch as I give myself a gift.
A gift of happiness.
There will be no space left to fill,
I don’t want the emptiness.
LIke back round noise in a conversation,
we never really listened to,
there will be no sound.
I can feel the end already.
I’m sure it will sound something like train tracks when hitting a destination,
we will just keep shuffling,
commuting in our silence.
We won’t see it coming, because we keep our heads firmly placed down,
it will sound like home,
with something unmistakable in the air.
And we won’t know
what it is.
