“Pulled From the Trash Pile”

I was looking around for new inspiration to write and  I fell into the trash category of our blogs. I am using the titles from each of these “trash”/ unfinished pieces to make a poem, so you might see one of your titles being used!

(no title)

mid day thoughts

rumbling through my one track mind in

colors like the sunset

its kind of painful to bear behind eyelids

but I take the heat anyway

defending the brilliance in the way one

hides beneath orange streetlamps at midnight

in the downpour of rain

just waiting

waiting

 

something I have noticed lately

within the realm of my usual

existential crises

is the lack of the teenage cliché

people keep talking about

boy meets girl, they make out

they breakup

but people usually forget the 3 am secrets they share

before the rumor, the ruin

the running

 

carousel horses have caught hold of my head

and they spin faster than my

seven -year-old self remembers;

concrete nightmares, out of hand

and stuck tight as the noises

in the spaces between hotel walls

 

colors

colors, too many

too far an expanse to imagine

without getting too creative

floating ’round in ideas ever- changing

and losing grip of reality

 

I have been building unity in this

oppression of myself

it’s healthier this way, I suppose

when the brain loses hold

all bets are off

birthdays have the feel of business meetings

and the color blue ceases to exist

 

I go back to the orange streetlamps on the corners

looking dimmer than before, but still

reminding me of the sun

I go back to the places that have burned

me into the dark, warm

earth and smile

I close my eyes and think about it some more.