Long Wrists Poems
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My pink, almost velvet pajamas that I haven’t washed in two weeks.
My different-shaded blue comb that I’ve used to scratch my wrists.
My dirty clothes from the past two weeks.
My trash can that hasn’t been taken out in two weeks.
My lotions sitting in the sink that hasn’t been used in two weeks.
My own tears falling down my cheeks.
My soon-to-be invisible scars on my wrists.
My wound on my right leg from scratching it.
My heart breaking out from my rib cage.
My cries and hyperventilating coming from my eyes and mouth.
My blue comb scratching my inner wrists.
My nails digging into my left leg.
My washed hair from doing a slick-back for four days so no one would see the empty patches.
My toothpaste sitting on the sink.
The salty taste from my tears falling down onto the floor.
I.
When he was born he was named Reid Gibson,
and his parents weren’t the richest of folk,
didn’t have money to buy land back east,
so off to the great frontier they did go.
This was way back in 1823,
and young Reid had only just reached age ten,
his father found farming prairie a chore,
he had never been a diligent man.
When in town one trip, buying some supplies,
he heard tales of trappers in rocky peaks,
starting daydreaming of some quick money,
and more news of beaver-trapping did seek.
Reid’s mother thought it was all a mirage,
but Reid’s father cared little what she thought,
it wasn’t a woman’s place to judge men,
so new rifles and beaver traps he sought.
He took Reid with him, saying it was time
for the boy to begin learning a trade,
Reid was afraid, and wanted to stay home,
but his pa pushed him along anyway.
They crossed the plains and by some miracle
avoided the Plains nations on their mounts,
somehow got their way to Fort Kiowa,
where the fur trappers told them, “Turn around.
“The ’rees are raiding any who go west,
taking scalps from any whites they find there.
A man like you will not last very long,
for you child at least, you should take care.”
But Reid’s father was a confident man,
too much considering what he’d achieved,
he’d come all this way to make his fortune,
and balked at all who told him not to leave.
So they went out as the fall settled in,
searching the mountains for ponds and for plews,
they found one but didn’t have that much look
since neither of them knew quite what to do.
A week had gone by, the tension did rise,
Reid’s father’s frustrations gave way to rage,
his father’s shouts gave away where they were,
the Arikara came, and not to trade…
They ran down his father by the pond shore,
struck at him with lance until he fell,
then leapt from their horses, cut off his scalp,
and celebrated with a piercing yell.
Reid tried to hide in a nearby forest,
but these warriors were good at their craft,
they found him in moments and dragged him out,
at his struggles they let out belly laughs.
One of them held a hatchet to his throat,
the other spoke, then the man abated,
they bound up his wrists, threw him on a horse,
Reid realized he would be captivated.
Please…
Don’t do this to me
Don’t take my immortality!
Don’t spine my broken heart
Don’t backstab me in the back
Please…
Don’t do this to me
Don’t take all the reasons
That I’ve chose to live for you
Don’t scatter all the memories
That shouted my love to you
Don’t tie me and drown me
Beneath the darkness
Under you’re skin
In an endless ocean
With no one to hear
No one to find
Please don’t purse my soft skin
And cause my blood to fall smoothly apart
Don’t do this
For God’s sake don’t do this
Don’t slaughter me with you’re claws
Don’t bite me with you’re jaws
Please … please…
Don’t do this
Don’t chain my wrists
And choke my neck
Don’t lay on me with a dagger in your hand
Please don’t cut the heart
That willed to do anything for our love..
I want to drown my urge to die
I want to kill my pulse inside
I can't breathe, I'm paranoid
Everything in life I avoid
Don't speak to me, I'll look away
Inside my eyes is just decay
I'm already dead, but have yet to die
Why do I keep my body alive
My soul is dead, eyes are lies
So is the smile I hide behind
Pull the plug, I'm a fake
In a nightmare and I cannot wake
Drown me! I'm flooded in pain
Please help me regain
Some peace, some rest
I want to die to live again
Set me free
Slitting my wrists isn't working
The more stares I get
The more I become numb
I just need to be gone
Eliminate my pain,
I'm already out of breath
Suffocating on my hopelessness
Every day I am alive
But I'm craving to die inside
Curved smile because your so naive
You think I'm happy
Yet I'm being crushed
My head is overflowing
With these thoughts that are too much
One word, suicide
Sparks a light inside of my eyes
I don't want to pretend to live
Let me go, flood me in sin
There is where I want to swim
Six feet under the ground
Don't be selfish
And keep me in pain
To tourture my lifeless body again
Let my body float soundly
Rushing water, ocean salt
I promise I won't feel it at all.
End it, hold me under
Then bury me so I can slumber
Goodbye lifeless eyes
As I'm dying I'll be coming alive
Haunting images
Deleted from my mind
Laughing
As I leave this world behind
Water
Floods my lungs
Death
Leans in for a kiss
Together we sink into insanity
And drown in infinitys abyss.
Out of the blue on this summer day
Richie asks me if I want to swim with him across the lake
Sure what the hell and that is that
I will match the older boy’s vim and whim
Two strong boys armored with Nietzsche arrogance and Tolkien muscle
Armada of scarecrows and wrists assemble on Wally’s manmade beach
To accompany us on the two-and-a-half-mile odyssey
Across the cold and chop of wind
Dad hunches over a leaky rowboat
In hand-to-hand combat with splintered creaky oars
Dennis kneels on a music sheet paddle board
Pink baton at his bearded black throat
In we go
A wave and grin goodbye to Wally’s beautiful daughter Wendy
Richie to Wally’s wonderous wife Janet
And to our moms’ arms crossed up on the tennis court hill
For hours little did we know
Dad says Bobby! Sarah’s coming up underneath you ha ha
Richie separates and heads north not east like a slashing madman
Hey Hey yells Dennis his spotter
Imagine myself a turtle with hot sun egg frying on its back in the black water
Begin to feel the razor teeth of pike at my toes
Biting them off one by one
I stop and panic thrash and splash them away give them my toenails
Richie straightens out far behind me
Weight of the bloated world holding me up
Spaceship in orbit bellied against the Earth
Halfway across
I assume
I can only tell by the guess of cumulus clouds
My knees shoulders neck need an oiled wrench to complete each heave and rotation
Rust and barnacles growing on me
Finally I pass over the turquoise drop off of the other side
Pink mustard to my sutured eyelids
Line of shore the trees a quarter mile ahead
I think dad yells good enough good enough
Salvages me in with what chattering bones remain retrievable
Face gone
Snaps my arms and legs to the rowboat’s aluminum bench
Cannot bend this brass statue to a sitting position
Upside down the only way I can fit in
For the long trip back within my dad’s singing voice
Richie crawls hands and knees up on that beach
Holds its sand in his hands lets it sift through as a time glass
Never lets me forget that
I finished and you did not but we won’t tell the shimmering women
When and if
You the brother I never had and I get back
Teeth left like unrecovered treasure at the bottom of Torch Lake.
The empty bottles strewn all around
Explain the pain inside my head
As I wake up on the pulled out couch
That doubles as my bed
I don't recognize the feet
That are passed out by my face
I suspect they belong to the women's clothes
That are scattered about the place
The cable box displays three o'clock
I don't know if that's day or night
The pantyhose tied around my wrists
Are starting to feel a bit too tight
The spot on the ceiling spins in circles
There's **** playing on my TV
There's a guy eating cereal at the kitchen table
I have no clue who he might be
There's a slice of pizza sliding down the wall
An unlit bong drips on the floor
Two midgets wearing only sumo thongs
Just walked out the open door
There are lipstick drawings all over my body
A tattoo where yesterday there was none
The question that keeps spinning inside my head
Is, "Oh my God, what have you done?"
The naked lady sits up beside me
I am so relieved she looks just fine
She says, "That was fun, can we do it again?"
Sure. What the heck. What's one more time?
I stopped at a rock eternal and free,
In mineral apparency to pronounce the gee;
No alternative life forces of strong or weak measure,
Only meaning - pure, rugged truth to pleasure.
Aligned with flower, hill, mountain, lion, bird,
Gliding through evolution to before the unseen third;
Taxonomy lived and cradled the morphemes marked,
Abstraction fired, dynamising the box of the larked.
Evolution converged into this one rock,
Into its within, the pinnacle, the spot;
Diversities of plumage, colour, mutation and ugly,
Kissed and drove the beauteous into the pure lovely.
Feeling that purpose exists - rationality sparked,
Spirited from a permanency permeating the parked;
As all life unravelled from its completeness harked,
Blood pulsed into wrists complementing the marked.
Logic resided firmly within the rock, but with arms open,
Axiom, predicate and proposition did talk,
Maths derived particle law, somatics, spread, order,
Genetic drift claimed the formulaic functions of red border.
God glimpsed silently not wanting to unfairly relate,
Or intrude uninvited, backwards at engaging the gait,
Nor saying, hello nor barking at this maker of this life,
Allowing a reciprocal glimpse to fetch his quivering fife.
Goodness existed needing coursing expression, for me,
For others, for warm, for distance with respect to see,
Foundations deep tentatively approached, shimmying forwards,
My glinting understanding of my navigation, my way - towards.
Changed by this meeting, positively forever and for all,
The place, the loci stood arriving in my hall;
The kindness afforded in remembering the Bang, the starts,
Cuddled the indestructibility of the immortality that departs.
The cruiser idles like a blue-throated wasp,
a hive on wheels, humming with eyes.
I am pulled over by a constellation
of lenses stitched into the dark.
Before the door opens,
the car has already read me—
my plate a barcode in the wind,
my face a passport made of bone and light,
my name ringing in a room of servers
where memory never sleeps.
The dash blinks its verdict:
license stitched to address,
address to a map of debts and stops,
insurance pinned like a specimen.
A radio braids my breath to headquarters.
A body camera pins my shadow to the hour.
A microphone cups the syllables I spill.
A computer asks the sky for my coordinates.
Overhead, a quiet witness—
the satellite’s eyelid—does not blink.
On the shoulder, the reader-gun
speaks in laser and receipt.
In the trunk, the fingerprint glass
waits for my touch like a frost.
And they step out armored with certainty:
vests that drink bullets,
tasers that write lightning in muscle,
pepper that turns the air into fire,
batons that remember wrists,
sidearms cold as winter moons,
shotguns asleep in racks,
rifles folded like prayers.
The siren keeps time with my pulse.
The camera keeps my face.
The network keeps my story.
I am a driver in a net of light,
flagged by a machine that never forgets,
stopped by a future that already knows my name.
Cat-suited and cute
Baring flesh to her navel
Her bronzed body
In wanting able
Wrists manacled
As her chest pouts
The needing of join
Her heart shouts
In tethered mode
With silken scarves
To her body delight
One caresses her curves
Her chest rises
Saluting his touch
His manly hands
Now in cupped clutch
Their lips meet
Tongues entwined
Tasting licking
De-vine in dine
Catsuit peeled
Down her wanting curves
Her eyes yearning
For his manly serves
As she lies there manacled
Hungering for their zest
His adventurous kissing
Starting from her breasts
Torso traversed
As her scents allure
Following her aroma
Heavenly pure
Her thighs, she holds
His manly shape
Eventually
His shadow drapes
Two engines tuned
To race in time
Revving hearts
In loving rhyme
Manacles opened
To feel her caress
Absorbing each other
Inner flowing finesse
Our sighs in rhythm
Kissing unites
Dove and her Highlander
Cat-suited delight
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love5.php
i took the litany of your diagnosis
on the groove of my tongue
down on my knees, I welcomed your terminological dominion
over my awfully sullied canvas
i closed my eyes, submitting myself to your word’s sterilization
frosting over my elasticity until I’m exactly what you want
am I what you want me to be yet?
will I ever be enough for the words on your page?
my wrists tear against the bloody shackles
your covenant exacts its price against my emotional crimes
the miscommunicated ex-communication of my mercurial being
leaves my mind high and dry, higher and dryer
i’m a zombie to your cure
infected by your frame of thought
FIX ME
TO THE FLOORS OF YOUR BUREAUCRATIC APATHY
AS I SLOWLY BUT SURELY
DIE
IN YOUR ARMS
NOT COMFORTABLY
BUT NONETHELESS
in your arms.
…
So, what would YOU do for a Klondike Bar?