PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When you hit rock bottom, you blink

a thousand miserable times before you get the picture

the telephone clicks, and the sleep gets longer

Chaos sets in, and you don't wash your hair

or your hands

or your pretty face



What you know, is the weather is

rebellious for December

and your room is comparable to a compost heap

Sometimes you have to open the window to

rid yourself of the stench of lonliness

It's not always that sort of thing in the air



Occasionally I smell the ocean.

And the seagulls get confused, they hang out in our parking lots

The kids throw them french fries

or alka seltzers

and watch them blow up from the inside out



I wish I were some sort of tall buiding

with large windows

There'd be more room to watch this show

This delicate massacre of my heart,

where holes are festering

and spreading wider

formed from a

meat cleaver

or a pitchfork

or a hasty argument about what goes on in my head

or why



I cannot.

Keep doing this.

Everytime.

You miss me. Kristi.

un.

healthy.

ex. hausted.

I get it.

I don't get it.

what?

nevermind.

Talk. to me.

fall.

asleep.

Bye.

Click it off before you hear mine.



Next week will be tough

We're all gonna shut off our lights

and the excitements will dwindle back into

the daily rush of alarm clocks and

microwaveable meals

and I'll have you somewhere on the side

and on the brink of my desire



But wait.

Tonight I was the last thing on your mind,

and that

can only

mean one of two things....