are you there?
run after the bus,
it's going away without you again.
did you forget the last time?
the way the rain fell into your rain boots?
you drank your own bathwater
and vomited on the carpet
and told someone else to clean it up,
but no one was there.
did you choke on the dirt rinsed from your skin,
or was it the flesh and blood you washed away
upset at being pulled back inside you?
or did you even notice the smell?
you washed yourself to appease them, maybe
but they put you in a glass case
and told you to sit still,
and you thought about the carpet in your hallway.
when the bus comes back,
it'll be full of every year of your life
and they'll all look in at you behind the glass,
while you wonder if you recognize them.
you sing a song but no one hears
so you shout and see how long you can hold a scream
but your breathe gives out, it always does,
and they're all leaving now.
the coatrack empties
and you wonder why you can hear the bus
out on the street, from in here.
you wonder if you accidentally washed everything away
in your bath
and now there's nothing left;
except, you still have eyes.
can you see what they've done to you?
or did you even notice the smell?
the silence is always full of sound in here
so you run yourself another bath.
don't run after the bus tomorrow,
don't you remember the last time?
the sun will drip into your rain boots.
when you stop washing
maybe you'll notice
the glass walls
drawn to dance
look so appealing
on liquid crystal ceilings
shedding tiny shiny skins
under the crude force
of melted toothbrush/razor shivs
all eyes on the fire movement
the interest didn’t compound
bring out the baby violins
in this bubble
old words resound
maybe should get a grip
maybe should put a pin in it
fall out naked
into a ridge
see if these old knees have any give
race back to the top
have another shot
without the see-through scotch egg casing
just the will to be in the moment
happy and loud
heaven’s own hospital patient
clawed out the crash
with an extra ink tear.
in the terrarium no one can hear you scream.
My mother cares so much about the self-image of our family. We all need to look picture perfect. the house is about as nice as an upper-middle-class house can get; we have a trampoline, a pool that all the neighborhood kids (who mom hates) swim in, a perfectly cut lawn, and enough live laugh love signs to build a second house. In the living room, we have a 50-gallon terrarium right above the fake fireplace. You can bet your bottom dollar that mom makes sure that the terrarium looks perfect, she has a Copperband Butterflyfish in there, I call him Toby, mom didn't care to name him. He must be lonely, tired of everyone staring at him, without a place to hide.
I don't have much time to think about Toby, mom put me into every sport possible, I think she just wants all the other moms to know that her kid is playing every sport the school offers. I don't really like sports, I would rather hang out with Toby. I asked my mom if we could get a dog, they're too dirty for us. fish are fancy, that's why it starts with an F. I think mom is wrong, but I am thankful that I can sit with Toby. I hope he doesn't feel like he needs to be anyone special around me. I hate the feeling of needing to act special around others, it is tiring. Nobody knows what my mom is like, I doubt that I do either.
She expects me to act like Toby. No offense to Toby, he's great, but she hates when I speak my mind. She hates when I use my brains that she pays four different tutors to perfect. She wants me to live within her picture-perfect terrarium. I don't like it here; in the terrarium, no one can hear you scream.
RE: CHOKING HAZARDS
We have received your request form to file access to the Choking Hazards Collection at the Throat, Mouth, and More! Museum for the People. We are delighted that our curations have peeked your interest!
However, we regret to inform you that the collection is on loan to the Don’t Swallow That: Institute of London at this time. The artifacts will be on display for the entirety of their Tiny But Mighty exhibition. Which will run for the last weeks of the season.
With regards to access we are willing to allow full inspection upon the collections return. We apologize for the inconvenience and encourage you to attend our lecture this week on Toe Stubbing and the Furniture to Avoid. Included are two passes to the lecture hall and a print out of a mappable living space to go along.
The Cough It Up Society