i.
the streets fade and turn brittle
in my mind.
tears have no home here;
instead, streetlights make tally marks
across dry eyes and smoke stained teeth.
my vocal chords ruptured
about half an hour ago.
never before have I known
that innocence can
be gained
with a pinch of salt
and a growing anxiety
of the next morning.
ii.
“it’s not cool,” says
the poster on the wall;
sandwiched between
some revolutionary,
a marionette,
and a plastic skeleton.
poetry jumps out of
the picture
and bounces killing
and statistics, like
ping pong balls,
off of burned psyches
and apathetic witnesses.
i am lost in art
and Christmas lights
in September.
smoke clogs the audio
and vowels come out distended
and shaken, with warm smells
competing for attention
in my crowded synapses.
iii.
[some band was playing.]
there is infinity here;
bending around sharp curves,
underneath glaring constellations
and black.
the faces don’t matter.
only the structure.
i lie awake,
fetal,
and drilling my nails
through glass
to grasp falling stars
and hold them to my cheek—
finally warming myself up
to the claustrophobia
["i no longer care if people die,
as long as they are sheep."]
Author notes
x--Atelophobia--x
prompt: memory lanes and forgotten names ~ checkmate
my take on the prompt: this is about a time last summer, where my friends and i were driving around, and because i'm the smallest, i was stuck in the trunk for the entire drive. luckily, the trunk is basically just the back of the car with no seats, it's a two-seater, and the trunk is open to the front so you can hear everything that goes on. there's also a window on the trunk, and so i spent the entire time looking out the window and watching everything bend around the sky. it was really cool. i remember none of the names [the revolutionary poster, the bands playing], only the ones i was with.
ALSO! the last line is a snippet of a conversation that we had, when we were talking about how many mindless drones there are in the world today... and it's nothing of genocide or anything like that. i don't condone murder or whatever. i've just gotten to the point where, if something SHOULD happen to the sheep... it wouldn't phase me really. i mean, it'd be a tragedy, but... yeah... i hope that makes sense.
this was originally supposed to be a prose. but i'm actually happier with it this way. and i think the author notes are longer than the actual poem. 
sorry.
i guess i may have taken it differently than was expected, so feel free to DQ if it doesn't fit. but i'm actually really proud of this for some reason. hope it's what you're looking for!!
15/100 [i've written a few others since my last submission, but i really despise the idea of putting them on AP. not happy with them at all and plan to revise when i get free time]
A contest entry
- Proudly Presenting: ROUND 2 (: by TheGreatestLove.
1500 points, ended October 7, 17 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
for a contest
Comments
-
congruatulations on winning a bronze!
here's the link of the last contest. please do enter because we have fallen in love with your poems (:
http://allpoetry.com/contest/show/2423543# -
wow. everytjing i want to say about this piece is packed into that single word.
awesome!!!
-
wow. this is so interesting. and to ride in the trunk of a car is kinda cool (:
"the streets fade and turn brittle
in my mind."
it started off brilliantly, & you pull through the poem with some great imagery.
all in all, i thought this was nicely written and it took me on a very imaginative ride (:
great work
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