like syrup

a poem that FINALLY doesn't solely focus on aforementioned Boy

here i am, lazily strumming dead grey fingernails against my fangs

lounging by the cesspool, wearing nothing but my nicest freudian slip

and a facial expression that could give every god a fever

i'm sipping some sunkist, feeling literally kissed by the sun

tbh i like touching mouths with the moon more, but i'm not gonna protest

right now, I'm too busy pretending to be a lil primadonna

like the kind that can shed pearls and tears like snakeskin 

so don't look at me like that

unless u want me to look at u like this

i could let my fingers reach toward the wrong side of heaven

but i've done that like a hundred million times already

i'm considering holding my hand over the red and pink parts

because i want to see it melt and drip like syrup

i would like to lie and tell u that i have weak ankles

so that you'll pick me up and carry me like hercules did for meg

i am greedy and i want to be the only statue in yr garden

that u don't break the arms off of for aesthetic reasons

and really, i just want u to put the 'romance' in 'necromancer' for once

remember how u would charm me and disarm me a the same time

i'm toying with a cool void but only with minor interest

I'm mostly yawning and doing some mild yoga 

on the very edge of Everything or Absolutely Nothing

i'm allowing my toes to test the temperature of the styx

because what else can u do on a thursday night 

besides count the amount of times

a particular fly hits the wall 

Author's Note

i know the last line doesn't really fit w the vibe but i wanted it to be kind of dull for some reason. sorry in advance

Reviews

[barleygirl]

Typically, I prefer a message that has a focused point to make, even if the story meanders along the way, before making such a point. However, I love your nonsensical unfocused poem simply becuz your observations are totally uninhibited, uncommon, & well-crafted. Such gems as: "wearing nothing but my nicest freudian slip" . . . and "so don't look at me like that, unless u want me to look at u like this" . . . and "that u don't break the arms off of for aesthetic reasons" . . .

By the way, I don't know what you're talking about -- whatever is pink and red & melts like syrup . . .

[Ana Papaya]

I like the edginess of this one, it has sort of a defeated sounding tone but with an underlying strength to it. Nice work Kitty.

[kitty blur]

Defeated tone is a really good way to describe it. I kind of see ambivalence and boredom mixed with like, nostalgia? Sometimes I don't even know what I write, apparently. But thanks for noting the strength in it, makes me happy to hear it. :)

[Ana Papaya]

I guess maybe the strength comes from defeat sometimes. Like getting knocked down and coming back bigger and badder than ever, that fire needs to brew a bit though. If that makes sense?
Anyway, you're welcome!

[Tristin Sky]

I really loved it actually. The idea of the writing is very strong and creative.

[kitty blur]

Thanks, Tristin :) Glad you loved it, makes me want to keep doing this whole writing thing.

[Tristin Sky]

You're welcome! & yes keep writing I'll look into your other entries too!

[LastMonth]

There is something dull in this.
But not in a bad way.

I'd imagine the POV just stretching her arms on the balcony while staring at passerbys who actually have something to do. There is something to be said for boredome-- We don't appreciate it until it is gone. In some phases of our lives we are desperate for boredom. Action, at times, can be too painful.

You've expressed that in a nice way in your poem.
One particular line I liked is about the weak ankles, hercules and meg. Is it because I grew up a hopeless disney fan? Perhaps.

Thank you for a lovely poem.