Details |
Josephine Koch Poem
Starched tears stream, crust
over like a spoiled sweet on
pink cheeks, flushed,
from suffocated time,
gasping for air,
I shatter at his words like brittle rust,
crushed to dust,
mind meek.
Fifth time this week.
Shallow breaths to Karma Police,
struggle to peel off the plastic casket,
sirens blare as you failed.
Blade lies next to veins
paled,
Slice the baby soft skin mother
used to scrub softly and kiss goodnight.
Creature comfort, the womb
This after all I've done for you?
Desiring crawling back to your tomb?
Maybe it was all a mistake…
Read the same sentence over to
make my heart rebrake
Reopen, pained potion.
Pulling angel hair.
Watching the world shrivel and stale
All I do is stare
at the
madness, memories flash
like delirium, we inhale dioxide,
burning like cyanide.
Drunk again, blood stained bath
where daddy used to shampoo hair.
I popped bubbles, slurped soap
to punish and choke,
cuss words croaked.
Brush my hair, it breaks and tears
likes the day I came home with
cuts and scrapes
on fragile doll legs.
These sharp aches can't compare with the
pain,
boundless fear,
of making new gains
Forced food commanders
this life,
strangers eyes,
lustful skies
pour like spilt milk,
spinning white lies swifter
than a spider and cheetah combined.
Drinking syrup and bathtub wine,
I only feel alive dying inside
Cut, puff, thrust, drunk.
Played cool, dressed like punks
while failing school, thoughts collide
over what's his and what's mine.
Why they leave,
I'm fine.
This air tastes divine
at the tip of the tongue that used to sound
like golden butterflies,
Then spat, bitter, berating
my beliefs and rehab soul
I can't stop
shaking,
raping
my mind,
assaulting
my ears,
relationship gone to mold,
Granted, things are best when rotten,
Begotten, forgotten.
Although:
I never forgot your
empty threats, let's be clear,
you never forced me to.
You played my fear like a fiddle.
Never took off your shirt because of a
stress softened middle.
But pressured for more and more,
consumed me whole for not becoming
your whore.
I was under his spell
Now I type, frantic, in hell
I don't even know who I am anymore.
Everything's a chore
from talking, breathing, eating, speaking through clenched teeth and terse smiles,
Where naked thoughts lie bare for miles.
Lay like a corpse, popcorn stars on the ceiling drop down, chase the pink panther.
Useless banter
to fill a hole in our soul with
trees and hazy winks
leaves me empty, sick magic tricks
of how quickly you can whisper sweet nothings in my ear, then disappear
leaving me here in a land of poverty
and a pool of my family's tears
Copyright © Josephine Koch | Year Posted 2015
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Details |
Josephine Koch Poem
Jaded,
weary of
pyrite glimmers and
faded glory,
cracked lips zip sealed
from the
disapproving glue of
days past,
words said internalize and
dance around my head
like a broken metronome,
a magical place
where everyone's a winner,
refuse to eat dinner every
passing
maypole.
I stare at the floor, wail
because I’m still
five.
I want to go home,
crybaby
sucks her thumb..
kicks mounds while tears flow
like a babbling creek,
I’m still a sinner behind
doe eyes and
limp hair,
I'll do whatever he wants
to say it
bluntly.
You take the wheel,
clockwise, view the endless
droning of small talk and cheek
hollows.
Wallow, pout, scream, shout
I’m five and fifty,
seen everything but innocent.
A beautiful contradiction
between apple juice and bountiful friction.
Copyright © Josephine Koch | Year Posted 2016
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