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More from ~IntelligentZombie

Old booksI have a friend who vomits
at the smell of old, tired books
they mutter when she goes by
and they stay where she has left them

they gather dust where she has dropped them
knowing, in the usual way the old books seem to know,
that she never would neglect them
if they smelled of something sweet

so she picks up all the new ones
with their jackets shining, and their spines intact
and their crisp white of newly printed
untainted virgin text.

I don't mind the muttering new book
though they all complain the same
"Open me at your peril" says the youth
while his body creaks and his spine begins
to show some little signs of wear
seeming blemished
You leave me counting seconds You leave me counting seconds
beside the hollow that you’ve left
the depression of your presence
is the footprint of the theft.

you leave me  with my question
it still echoes now, at dawn-
(answer me, my lover
or by the morning, please be gone)

but you replied in little smiles
and in warm, moonlit regret
I asked you, “Are you hiding?
(because I knew that you were hiding
in the twisted sheets or in the sweat)
I saw proof that you were hiding
in your love of risk, of gambler’s debt

yet you left me counting seconds
in the hollow of your throat
I asked you, “Do you love me?”
we were safe in some embrace
we were
Leave me, please, to sunshine and teaLeave me, please
to my cup of tea,
with the steam swirling off of it
and the expensive sugar
settling in thickly at the bottom
in its customary large-grained sludge
I have some tea for you,
but I don't have any words for you
I have no ideas, or answers
or sufficient capacity of mind for you
only shared quiet for you

so shoo, flee, flutter away
leave me, it's fine if you do
there's sunshine in my corner
and a song I've inked onto my skin
with the words still river-singing
all over and inside of me

you are my lovely people
I've collected you,
earned you, and found you
or was born to already have had you
and you're my friend,
you're an a
Zombie haikuZombies cannot think
like you living people do,
after your coffee.
Home- AA day 12Hands coated in flour, little ghosts, I dust them off
on my shirt, in mock desperation, and laugh at the result.
My attempt to cheer you up works only a little
ending your frown quickly, but not sticking (so I try again).
My lungs expandMy lungs expand,
struggling with their burden
holding what seems like writhing fire
while all the burning, screaming patterns
of hot red light, and yellow suns
erupt in color-splatters
and paint themselves on the inside
of my eyelids

they burst over and over again
the aftermath of day-painted cherry bombs
until each fades into its shadow
and is later adapted,
rewritten
into some new violent tapestry.

My lungs refuse me-
they've been filled with life
to sustain the flesh- capsule that contains them
but they refuse.

and so my body shoots up
propelled by my spasming legs
and of course, urgency
my arrival at the surface comes
with a gas

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September 19, 2012
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:iconintelligentzombie:
Commissioned stamp for :iconm10tje:! :heart:

As requested, it uses her beautiful background: [link]
And says "My name is/ any key/ please don't hit me."
:iconm10tje:
=M10tje Sep 20, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you very much !!
I like it a lot.
:love:
Reply
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