we play the pretend game
you pretend
and I pretend not to know you’re pretending
never acknowledging the winner
Author: Georgia Tell
Poem #735
lesbians scream
it is a fact — well-known — that dead mice are shriek-worthy creatures that should be handled with the utmost care, especially when shaking them free from the predatory jaws of a teenage kitten only to fall on a foot, after splitting a lip reaching under the table for said kitten
Poem #734
cockroach caught
in the widow’s web
never chomped
a senseless death
Poem #733
she lives in the woods
you wouldn’t think so
seeing her in the suit
but when the clock strikes five,
she is wild.
her hair golden among the green
a forest nymph or perhaps a fox
she runs barefooted
the ground is hard,
but her feet are harder.
the air is cold and it burns her throat
the cold electrifies her
she screams with life
until late in the night,
she lies among the dirt and leaves.
before the sun is up
she is up
she washes in the stream
donning her suit once again,
she is society.
Poem #732
the loneliest boy didn’t get it
why they only talked when he left
he didn’t understand
no matter how hard he tried
he was isolated
he would smile
he would laugh
he would say whatever silly thing that came to mind
they might smile back
but it didn’t move further than that
he was alone
he hated it
but it never changed.
Poem #731
crazy is an idle mind
those annoying tick!tick!tick!’s
time passes
one simply must do… something
anything.
a drive for productivity
sends the brain into frenzy:
jump off the roof,
sprout intense emotions,
experience misery,
rip away the non-essential,
die.
just keep busy.
Poem #730
the trees rise up everywhere
tall and moss-covered
the street shines with the light sprinkle
full of reflections of car headlights
the air blows in from the sea
chilling but not through jackets
Poem #729
her face is tense,
but there are no lines
when she gets it right,
she smiles brighter than fluorescents
Poem #728
unplug from my body
float farther and farther away
just one air hose keeping me attached
it’s bliss
and loneliness
Poem #727
lucky, I have self-control
or else
I would smash things with my hands and head
delighting in the electricity of my blood
dig my nails into the fabric of my seat
adrenaline too pure to not express
rip off my skin
encompass the earth
be too big to contain
shatter into billions of pieces
and grow ever larger
like I said
lucky, I have self-control