Archive for April, 2012

Cityscape
April 19, 2012

by Elexa Rose

men chasing men
like stags
dripping out
of water logged rooms
that smell like
stale whatifnots.
and very young girls
tearing up paper,
small receipts
they drop
and stuff
and clogg the drains up.
i am walking.
past: hopefully through
these mellow townspeople.
i do not wish
to touch their ink
or stain
my pale
wasting cheeks
with cheap red lipstick
kisses.
i watch them
without looking at them,
eyes straight,
view curved and bent.
my footsteps mimic
the haste in my
heart, without will
i slow it with dark
smoke: my lungs.
i cough, and they notice me.

You
April 16, 2012

by Elexa Rose
 
Oh you, oh you,
the way you crack
your fingers backwards.
Too thick glasses,
too big for your face.
I am the one from a far
that has become
that quick little thumb rub
on the corner of your eye
when the day gets late.
Every short grumble or
chuckle rings clear
in between my ears.
My eyes, my skin, my head
is all drawn to your constant
pushing up of shirt sleeves
just because you can’t sit still.
I cannot help but watch,
other sounds dissolve when
my head runs over what I hope,
what I have to keep hope in.
Every day I bring the only thing.
And every day I resent
the moment you will walk home
again.

Onion Eyes
April 16, 2012

by Elexa Rose
 
I see a girl with onion eyes
she whistles and blinks
the layers away.
Soft white layers of chiffon
float around her body,
not quite slim enough to be
slender.
 
Her onion eyes, they roll around
in thick sockets.
She shields them from sunlight,
moonlight, dull little lamp lights,
tea lights and flames.
She blinks, downward,
watching her thin skirts slip.