(Snot)Rocket To The Moon.

Geometry Class.

 Monday again.

 

And I remember last night.

switching out my batteries behind the moshpit

laying my dreams down in a line and watching them fly up my nose

we spent too much time waiting around for eachother.

So I sat there, hating alot of things.

 

I'm barely stirring up a breeze,

Glued to a blue plastic chair

Reliving the same nightmare on F**k Street.

Watching leprachauns torment a school janitor named Merlin

outside my classroom window

another warlock to hide with me in my bedroom closet. .

 

A constant layer of itch covering my face.

Biting my fingernails off.

Counting fake bricks and days under a nailpegged roof.

Dander and eye itch.

Explosions in the sky and trying to look like I give a damn.

Hailey Bitching. BitchBitchBitching.

Her dog/boyfriend/mom/period/are you listening?

I'm not listening.

 

1 2 3 4 girls blocking my locker.

 

Posters in the cafeteria: Body By Milk.

Body (found) By (the) Milk (man).

3.98 3.98 3.98

Grade Point Average.

Giant P***y Apparition.

Grouchy Parking Attendant.

God, Phuck Anything. Everything.

I'm done. (I'm never done.)

 

Naked structures and bleeding foot bubbles,

and every other one of my tormenting nightmares.

My brain is the newest vestigal structure.

Choking on feathers below the surface of my bed.

And I stopped breathing after round two.

This song is fatal. Illinois for now.

 

Quick notes and sore throats, they all mean the same thing.

Kiss me. Get dressed. I'm done. You're drunk.

Split these ends and get the hell out of town.

Trip over spinning tree tops

while we make our rounds in the sky.

Put my face on a kite so even planes can see how high I am.

Ten cents to a minute,

tell me everything.

big juicy snow flakes screaming my name. 

driving until we find the sunlight again.

until the blue sky drains back into a dull yellow.

My eyes weren't as shut as I thought they were,

the only baggage I carry are under my eyes

and I'm going out in style.

 

Catch me falling off of bridges, almost freezing.

Honestly, your a lyan liar and I want nothing to do with you.

No more december.

Snot rocket to the moon.

Hop on.

All aboard.

That's not a question.

This isn't a decision.

I don't want an answer.

I'm not a martyr.

Your not worth my time.

Drive faster.

 

Projectile learning. 

Constant itch still.

Chugging tornado bath water and

warm chocolate milk.

I can feel my brain shaking.

Geometry sucks.

Sucks the life right out of me.

Yeah, it's Monday again.

Author's Note

You can find the original in Happy Meal.

Reviews

[The Language of Birds]

I first have to say that I absolutely love the title. Very catchy and engaging in the slush-pile of other titles. Well done.

Secondly, I absolutely love the first half of this piece. The rhythm, sound, and stream of consciousness 'fugue state' of the images are absolutely brilliant. The second half is strong too, but with so much of the same rhythm as above, that I believe it is difficult to sustain the tension of the piece. There seems to be a strong break/closure point to the phrase..."Geometry sucks. Sucks the life right out of me" If that isn't the end of the piece, it at least feels like the end of the first movement. Then, If you choose to continue, mess with the sound and rhythm and line length of the next movement. Think Tool's 'Lateralus' in their first track "The Grudge" if you need more info on what I'm trying to say.

This is brilliant though, I must say, and I am very eager to see what you do with this. So eager in fact, that I would hope that you consider submitting it to my online teen lit journal called 'torches n' pitchforks' (providing that you are a teen. I have yet to see your profile) This writing, in it's most evolved and realized state could be a perfect fit for our June issue, I think.

Let me know when you decide to struggle with this piece further. I love it, and certainly think it is worth the effort.

Regards,

Jim C-D

[Zatoichi]

i read the original post and then this; makes for an interesting look at your creative process.
i may be repeating myself when i say you are skillful at capturing the violence
that simmers underneath the most banal interactions.


vestigal- should be vestigial

[Zatoichi]

the first paragraph is a brilliant accounting of the difference between want and need as relates to artisitic endeavors. anyone with a true heart for literature can read themselves into it.

you asked me if there was anything you could use here-emphatically yes. there is a lot of word association here (therapy much?) which is always a great jumping off point for any writing endeavor.

Posters in the cafeteria: Body By Milk. Body (found) By (the) Milk (man). _a great deconstruction of the propaganda we see everywhere.

i'm done (i'm never done)- i like the way you cotradict yourself in the lines like this. adds dimension and ambiguity.

Catch me falling off of bridges, almost freezing. Honestly, your a lyan liar and I want nothing to do with you. no more december. Snot rocket to the moon. Hop on. All aboard. That's not a question. This isn't a decision. I don't want an answer. I'm not a martyr. Your not worth my time.- liking this very much and the very last line is a wonderful anchor.

it's too all over the place as a whole but you've def got a lot of good imagery and imagination to work with.
you're no emo baby- i only wish i had your savvy. joe

[Last Lying Look]

geeezusss...
This is hectic. & Extremely interesting.
I likey.