Sunday, August 20, 2006

They tell me to feel the walls


I've got to get me out of here
This place is full of dirty old men...



Embora dela somente estado dias EU ainda questao se dela real se isto e reaidade ...e se dela realidade acontecimento significar.
Que eu indo a fazer?
Eu hei nao selecoes......
I cant do this...
out of all the things I wasnt sure if I could do

I am afraid I cannot handle this.
I am very afraid that I cannot survive.


you can tell
from the scars on my arms
and the cracks in my hips
and the dents in my car
and the blisters on my lips
that i'm not the carefullest of girls

you can tell
from the glass on the floor
and the strings that're breaking
and i keep on breaking more
and it looks like i am shaking
but it's just the temperature
but then again
if it were any colder i could disengage
if i were any older i would act my age
but i dont think that youd believe me


and you can tell
by the red in my eyes
and the bruises on my thighs
and the knots in my hair
and the bathtub full of flies
that i'm not right now at all
there i go again
pretending that i'll fall
don't call the doctors
cause they've seen it all before
they'll say just let her crash and burn she'll learn
the attention just encourages her

and you can tell
from the full-body cast
that you're sorry that you asked
though you did everything you could
(like any decent person would)
but i might be catching so don't touch
you'll start believeing youre immune to gravity and stuff
don't get me wet
because the bandages will all come off


in the time it takes to break it she can make up ten excuses:
please excuse her for the day, its just the way the medication makes her...


4 Comments:

Blogger Suzan Abrams, email: suzanabrams@live.co.uk said...

What a clever writer you are, Ischelle. You make me feel and breathe your every word.
love

9:59 PM  
Blogger The Wandering Author said...

Ischelle, you are a wonderful poet. I am overwhelmed.

10:23 PM  
Blogger RomanceWriter said...

That poem brought tears to my eyes. It just kept building on itself and becoming more and more tragic. Hugs,
Sara

8:46 AM  
Blogger White Square said...

Hi Ischelle,
great stuff!
Your every word speaks...
best!

4:02 AM  

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