Big Hood

Big Hood

A Poem by The Twin Arenas

the fewtch

In my hood my whole
head is a pupil
and in spaces
between fabric and flesh
there is periphery

Looking down the eye
Looking up
it rolls.

Everything around
here is crushed
cookie and empty
house feelings.

I think once
writing got me
out of jams
into clothes
my hood

You're somewhere

Don't park behind me
because I leave after lunch
and I'll have to ask you to move.

And you will move,
and I'll go home.

© 2020 The Twin Arenas

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It feels as if the poems narrator (potentially yourself) has grown tired of pretending to be ok with the mundane and feels as if their skin is a shell. It is a feeling many experience and can not express. Even when it is expressed it often is seen as simply unhappy, or down. This is something people can relate to. I like it!

Posted 2 Months Ago

This feels like a distaste for life in general. Or perhaps just a loss of connection to what is desired. Or something else. Whichever, I like it.

Posted 3 Months Ago

Ughhhh. Hate when that happens.

Posted 4 Months Ago

writing usually can get us out of morose moods....we write ourselves out...but sometimes all the words just feel too shallow...decadent and like an empty house with no furniture...our heart becomes a home we don't want to go to, but must.
and our heart moves on without us.

Posted 11 Months Ago

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4 Reviews
Added on February 20, 2020
Last Updated on February 20, 2020


The Twin Arenas
The Twin Arenas

Edmonton, Canada

Lost in the twin arenas. error 003 more..

pud pud

A Poem by The Twin Arenas