THESE LIGHTS,
OH, WHEN SHE HANGS HER FLOWER HEAD OUT THE WINDOW,
TOKYO SEEMS LIKE HER ARTFUL STATE OF MIND.
because she,
sits in the corner of her mind
with her knees pulled in
and she's like this,
like this all night.
and the lonely nights are always this same
broken record
all over again.
and the liquor never helps;
she tries it every time.
because there's
plenty of space
to pace around on
for hours
and she's falling with grace
easy with her steps
and she's done this before
back when she played those games
and took the loses like cards
one and then one again.
THESE HEADS,
and she feels sorry,
when she lays her head down on the pillow
every night and
lets her fingers ride the bumps in the blue light
that tumbles through her window.
hotel rooms
have become her gods
and she's
praying to the white sheets and
confectionary she
stuffed in her cheap fridge
all the time.
THESE STREETS,
WHEN SHE'S HIDING AMONG THE LIGHT, SHE LOOKS LIKE A GOD,
NO?
and time seems to bid her goodbye.
she likes sitting around the city to watch the stores close.
oh, when that last light goes off and the metal bars hold everything captive,
she feels it
because it's familiar
although it's in her head
she likes this.
THESE SIGNS,
it's hard to describe who she is
at the moment
no signal, out of reach.
she's been frightened lately
pulling up flowers from their roots and sticking them into
PLACES WHERE THEY SHOULDN'T BE.
and she's screaming
and her nails turn to perfect bloody crescents
because the arena killed her bones
but the fight was in her head.
and she comes around here, lately
she likes to sit in silence in dark bars at one a.m.
likes to feel the numbness, the nothingness
cry and lean on her shoulder.
lately, she smudges too much lipstick off her face
and forgets to
wash it off
and she thinks that mistakes are like
old makeup that
at first
seemed so pretty
and then they linger and she
wants to murder them
because she thinks she carries knives in her pockets
but she's got TOO MANY THOUGHTS AND TOO MANY PLANS.
and people walk and stop.
they say, "hey, girl, who are you looking for?"
gore filled souls, they leave musty footsteps beside her shoulders
when they leave,
because they saw her out of reach,
saw her empty static sound.
GIRL, WHO ARE YOU LOOKING FOR?
·
August 6, 2016
