sandstorm at the beach

acrossssSsssshitttacrossssSsssshittt Posts: 1,014
edited November 2010 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
from under the covers
he tells me
that from under the covers he keeps looking at me
and he warns me
about letting him be
under glass covers
so when they look at me
I see only the candles from under flickering
but I can’t see them
looking at me

there was a sandstorm at the beach
I survived the housecrush
now in the daylight
when I see neither clouds nor sunlight
and something tells me
that there will never again come a night
when the sand has become the sea
the war tank runs free
crushing hotels housing ghosts in Karachi
it’s a long way from the beach
and there is no man behind the wheel

inside I see them around me
the ones I entered with
have departed
but I see them around me
they sing loudly and merrily
of them one’s hanging upside down
with his legs rested on the wall
keeping his eyes on me
asking me to sing along
but I’m not crazy
and I cannot speak
if only I could scream
I would kill each and every one of them
like a sandstorm at the beach
but I’m not crazy
I only want this hotel all to me
so I can roam free
admiring the wood around me
and maybe look up that woman
whom I saw in the hallway turn to me
when the hallway spoke to me
as she entered her suite
to water her flowers and leaves
her face still turned towards me
her eyes looking at me
only past me

from under glass covers
he surfaces
and warns me
never to lay stained glass covers on the beds in my hotel
for I shall never see them
while they look at me
his teeth they grin at me
I begin strangling myself only to laugh at him loudly
and I laugh until I no longer see him but the covers


but that doesn't matter
what matters is the unease
what do you do
when this is how you feel
when there are things you need
i don't know...
so that feelin like shit is one thing
but becoming like this..
it doesn't feel good
that's all
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • chadwickchadwick Posts: 21,157
    i don't know
    it is a dream or something
    for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7

    "Hear me, my chiefs!
    I am tired; my heart is
    sick and sad. From where
    the sun stands I will fight
    no more forever."

    Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
  • yeah .. well mostly... then havin got up at 4 imagined and remembered a bit more... to creep myself out... til i shat my pants... and waited for morning : )
  • Godfather.Godfather. Posts: 12,504
    Your stuff is always so real,..on the edge real I really like this one it's a song in a dream state surrounded by reality.

    Godfather.
  • wow... if you think my stuff's real Godfather, it must be... i hope i'm real too... i wonder if fake fuckers can whoop out real shit..hmmm.. food for thought... yummy
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