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Jenny Huebner Poem
Warped and twisted,
Spinning inside
Colors close and they open
Like a drunken slumber’s eyes
Mismatching patterns
Correlating with signs
Jumbled, rustled, falling
Like leaves in autumn time
Hoping to pick something up
Each time I rise
Veins explode from fingertips
Like a possessive ride
Exhilaration expanded
Dilating pupils surmise
Inferring differences
With an indifferent pride
Seducing snakes like a game
Smoke drawn from lips
Red blood poured from a soul
With liquid, no grips
Like sand through ones hand
Wind moves like hips
Twisting, turning, like figure eights
For each height, a new dip
Honey melting
Like sugar cubes in a bath
Resurrecting promises
I look back and I laugh
Parodies sing
A melodious wrath
Distortion misrepresented
It could represent the past
Always looking back
Wronged remembered
Nothing can cut
What’s already dismembered
Playing tag with mice
Crackling like a fire’s ember
Cackling like a witches laugh
A now silenced endeavor
Like chutes and latter’s
I don’t know when to climb or slide
A dragon attacks like demons
A devil’s surprise
Giving out what I don’t want
Subconscious cries
For a tortured soul
A depth beyond evil eyes.
Copyright © Jenny Huebner | Year Posted 2012
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Details |
Jenny Huebner Poem
Aren’t we all empty?
Hallowed out by our own self pity
Our lack of self discipline and self control
And our overwhelming insecurities
Aren’t we all unhappy?
When everything’s right, nothings wrong
Yet we have the desire to dissect every situation
Until we find something that has the potential
To be worse than it really is
Is it our fear?
Dictating us, possessing us to look for every
Negative thing until all we see are negativities
And then we long for our own optimism
Blanketed by our already forced desperation
Hungry for more when were full.
Extensive explanations in our minds that are
Completely illogical and irrational but our emotions
Grab a hold of the reigns, like a horse pulling a carriage
And direct every move
As if we don’t have enough will power
Or stamina to stop us from the insanity
To hold us back from our delusional thought processes
To contain us, hide us, separate us from ourselves
Until we’ve cut through the new stitches
Until we’ve been split in half once again
But we already know how to put ourselves back together
We just don’t know how to stop cutting ourselves open.
Copyright © Jenny Huebner | Year Posted 2012
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