I wish I could snap pictures with my eyes.
see them as clearly as I do now.
not misted over by some camera lens.
my head hurts with disconnection.
I can't even find the Legos in my dreams.
there are so many to connect to, but there is no possibility.
he's probably singing to some other disconnected little fan-girls.
these memories flash thru me.
they seem like movies to me in how I don't remember the plot.
but I do know the view-
it is cracked and longs for another play.
but cast quit days ago, or longer.
they wouldn't even rehearse for me.
I don't want them to.
I want someone new.
the connected life that spills from my dreams
into my real-time me time
but it is never real, but permanent.
it's no doubt, it's everclear.
but that doesn't make a difference.
cos I'm the only one that hears.
no one calls, but that's ok cause
my mouth doesn't work anymore.
it ran out of minutes.
I'm letting my hands do it all now.
a bit of pantomime.
maybe I scared him with my black and white
silent tendencies.
I can't believe I found him first shot.
did he know me?
I know he can read between the lines.
see them as clearly as I do now.
not misted over by some camera lens.
my head hurts with disconnection.
I can't even find the Legos in my dreams.
there are so many to connect to, but there is no possibility.
he's probably singing to some other disconnected little fan-girls.
these memories flash thru me.
they seem like movies to me in how I don't remember the plot.
but I do know the view-
it is cracked and longs for another play.
but cast quit days ago, or longer.
they wouldn't even rehearse for me.
I don't want them to.
I want someone new.
the connected life that spills from my dreams
into my real-time me time
but it is never real, but permanent.
it's no doubt, it's everclear.
but that doesn't make a difference.
cos I'm the only one that hears.
no one calls, but that's ok cause
my mouth doesn't work anymore.
it ran out of minutes.
I'm letting my hands do it all now.
a bit of pantomime.
maybe I scared him with my black and white
silent tendencies.
I can't believe I found him first shot.
did he know me?
I know he can read between the lines.
Published by Samantha Fitzsimmons
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1 Comments
Post a CommentDavid is an idiot.
What counts is the quality of the images and the rhythm of the language. The quality of those properties here is on a par with the best poets of the english language.
This line:
they seem like movies to me in how I don't remember the plot.
but I do know the view-
it is cracked and longs for another play.
brings together the rhythm of mid-american speech with images of a middle aged person seeking to recapture clarity and time.
Please keep writing, Ms. Fitzsimmons.
lsr.