Liquid Skies
I want every rainbow
to die
right alongside my own.
I want all their colors gone.
I want to watch
as they drip
down the cosmic drain.
Clogging it.
Gray.
Is the future.
So perfectly dull
and lifeless.
Promising nothing
as it devours everything.
To keep itself alive.
To keep myself alive.
I need its tragedy
to breed.
Covering me.
Covering you.
Until we are the same.
Two twins.
Lost.
In the stain
of a pain
the sky
will never forget.
Emotional Effigy
I am like an elevator
with every button pushed.
I am afraid to meet the ground.
There is nothing there for me.
I will always be empty.
My passengers -- just temporary memories.
Pitiful attempts at swallowing life.
They always leave.
Or I spit them out.
They can see I am closed
for repairs that will never be complete.
It’s okay.
They have other ways.
I have even seen them once.
Those optimistic stairs.
Coming or going.
They say “always up.”
Too much.
I cannot take the strain.
My cables are fragile.
I live every moment
an inch away
from “forever down.”
The Future’s Glare
I am terrified.
But complacency is the killer
I refuse to fall to.
There are other angels
more worthy
of my mind
and my body’s bloody death.
Sin for instance.
And silence is another.
In fact, my battle
between those two
could be a utopian dream.
An epic tale.
Full of scars and scales.
And a hero?
Well, maybe not.
I am too flawed.
And prefer to be alone.
With the wind
as the only witness.
To my violent trends.
A.J. Huffman is a poet
and freelance writer in Daytona Beach, Florida. She has previously
published four collections of poetry: The Difference Between Shadows and Stars, Carrying Yesterday, Cognitive Distortion, and . . . And Other Such Nonsense. She has also published her work in national and international literary journals such as Avon Literary Intelligencer, Writer's Gazette, and The Penwood Review. Find more about A.J. Huffman, including additional information and links to her work at http://www.facebook.com/
No comments:
Post a Comment