if i can feel my heart moving then i know it’s pounding right? (voice over)
(girl standing in front of a car garage motionless)
in a second it shatters and then it becomes whole (voice over)
It’s silly to think that we willingly place ourselves within the inhibitions of walls like objects stuck in shelves. Rooms resonate the feel of storage spaces. So, why is no one’s car parked in there? Empty car garages make me antsy. The burden of my thoughts weigh down on me as I convince myself that the world has discovered something I have yet to find. I see a complex of yellow lines that flirt with separation, but shall never meet.
This man, he had a feather in his dress pants.
I fold in, letting my arms spread out. I’m interlocking the idea of now. I reach out and touch what I feel. The roots of my finger tips disconnect from the fragments that prolong them. They disperse and sink into the thirst that petrifies the existence of me.
infuse
confuse
use
me
I’m just a bundle of introverted smiles.
What is more than a brush of your fingertip on my shoulder? Were you just dusting off a spectacle of lust? Realizing I am nothing more than an idea, you consume the very thought of me through your eyes.
It all started with the first line. I can hardly remember who or where I heard it from, but I found those 7 words to be beautiful. I felt that I had to expand on it, so I did and this is what I came up with.
You know those days when you just feel like questioning everything? Why are we here? Why am I me? How am I me? I wrote this when all of these questions were rushing through my head.
If you’re not too familiar with collage poetry it’s the process of cutting up and mashing together words and phrases from different works of poetry to create a new poem. This is an untitled work that I produced in my American Poetics class this semester at the School of the Art Institute Chicago.
This is a poem I conjured up the morning after it happened again. It’s about this constant physical pressure I feel when I’m just about to fall into a deep sleep. Solution? I need to sleep more and it doesn’t help that I’m writing this at 2:45AM. I write mainly in free verse not because I oppose structure, but simply because my poems are unpremeditated. They serve more as personal notes than an attempt to enter the literary world.
