i’m sorry i haven’t been posting much poetry lately. i’m in a writing funk. my creative juices have been clogged down my throat and therefore i cannot muster up stanzas and metaphors very well. i wouldn’t call it writer’s block though.
on the bright side, i’m outlining the plot of a story i’m planning to write. it’s a dystopian and it’s about cannibalism, forgotten values, and remembering history. the story follows a medical trainee/intern whose family died in a hunger strike. i won’t give much away just yet, but i’ll post a chapter or two on tumblr and figment when i’m ready.
hope you all had a wonderful thanksgiving!
the heavy boulders of anxiety
will pound on your shoulders like gunfire
and knock you down like a plastic penguin on stilts
but one morning you will wake up
to strawberries in cake batter
and everything weighing you down
will eventually disappear down
the unplugged drain
hearts clapping like thunder.
lips curling up with lust.
love is in the air.
a jar sits on the edge of my desk
like a tragedy waiting to happen.
with its lid unscrewed,
the jar cradles a crumpled note
with your hands written all over it.
Smoke - daughter
then we kiss and his lips turn into sand
and the whole of him cascades through my hands
making castles on the floor
(Source: th3gr0wnupchild, via th3gr0wnupchild)