Premiere Generation Ink.
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I. four a.m. wind whistle me a song rain beating on my hands like my palms on your chest would ask you on the bricks where i wanted to kiss you to feel indifferent to my body II. cigarette butts sit on park benches cut short by roads and hand planted trees i want to hold you outside under these rain drops this is my rain over you divide this plane where our shadows cross my heart and hope to die III. tonight i wear the acid washed pavement like blue jeans on a teenager who lost his poems to a wife and kids an attic and a basement their son use to hide in, and i 19 wonder if i will have a son to love the way you never loved me or if the fear of losing you will keep me from him and is my son dying inside her like i was instead i contemplate the history of my bed, the one night stand i had with you for a week i pass friday onto saturday and keep sunday for myself and give you the other five days of this weak getaway IV. drinking enough to try to forget i am trying to get her drunk enough anticipation i want to go out dying i want you to rip me from my mothers womb with the strength of your orgasm i want you to kill me in pleasure i could never give myself V. i want to relive a high school memory i had of my childhood of my mother and father loving me an awkward silence followed my word tripping over yours VI. i know our relationship was just postponing time i would have to spend away from you i could write you a diary and only use the left hand side of the page but i want more from you i want the loneliness i have in this gossamer silence i want an explanation to why it rains outside when i want to be inside you i want to play with words like the sixth year toys my father couldn't afford me i don't want to hear the words like father, like son because my father never liked me much VII. i want to express you something greater than the thoughts in my head i want to speak to you with my body my fingertips my arms and elbows i want to lose myself in a poem you never wrote me i don't want to take drugs i don't want to feel good like your neck resting against my lips are sealed i wont tell anyone, promise i wont eat anymore chocolate my diet starts tomorrow so do you want to go out to dinner tonight VIII. i want to sleep on a memory of me and you i tried to imagine how i would undress your body how you would pull me towards you when you came back to me i was wondering would i have ever seen you if he didn't want you anymore i have a writers cramp in my leg from your tight fingers twisting my words. IV. i slept with you for three nights without sleeping and i lost the poems i had written for you in another sleepless night where i wish i would be sleepless next to you the wind whistles different when it is alone i wonder if your chest smells like the shirt you wore on it will you still be as beautiful as i want to forget you 3 years from now Yogesh Chawla This poem is appearing in the Book Attack of the 50 ft. Poets |
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