H.M.T.H.Y.D.T.W
Candid Poetry About Real People
How many times have you died this week?
suddenly I saw it, midway down the street,
seven shots of forget-me-nots bottled in his hands –
I cannot convince you to delegate disaster, or
divide us into two separate people, or
prevent whatever is about to occur when I watch you
snort electric Kool-Aid for the first time in seventeen years
“Give me the marshmallows stuffed in your cheeks…"
You said it seventeen times, until all your friends
watched you toss me pills with an open mouth
and then they watched me toss you coke with a bloody nose
sealed in a ziplock bag given by an evangelistic artist
spindling gin on his wrist around the corner of West 12th -
spitting images lodged in his brain when he insisted he
recognized Damon but it was the person standing next you
who shared the same accent and squirrely features
and all you did was glare at him with eyes in your hairline
that you said could only see if you stood on the table
where you made him promise he’d not sell the story
Where did you go when your knees kept wobbling?
the farmers market? Neverland? 7-Eleven?
your eyes glazed over while your bones took the form
of tambourines - a pocket of pennies, you kiss me,
a pocket of pennies, pennies, pennies, you said pennies
like it was church on a Sunday, pennies, like wheels,
pennies, like barter, that time you saw an eagle barge
its way through your eyes and feed them to its young
and you only knew because you could smell the iron
in your blood fizzle down your nose and you told me
that you’d never forget the sound of the crunch from
inside their beaks
How many times have you died this week?
About the Creator
Seneca Basoalto
I like bad words, old men, and heavy basslines
Background in the backstage music/movie scene
Iberian poet
Publications in England, Scotland, Australia, and USA through NAILED Magazine, Terror House Magazine, Utterance Journal, and many others
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.