“Who?” Watercolor, 6×6 [OC]
Category: Prose
Bullets
I take bullets by mouth.
White and round and oblong and square
Poison.
You want me sterile
Until you decide
What to plant inside me.
I’m just a woman
With hips and lips
And the balls to decide
What to put into my mouth.
Washing down the small white dose is
My ritual cleansing of
Psychopathy and
Your possessive expectations.
And then I breathe
Pure thoughts
Released by these
small bullets of freedom.
LROSE
The Circus
There once was a girl who went down
To the circus that came into town
She sucked dick for money
And thought, “this tastes funny”
On her knees while she pleasured the clown
LROSE
Enjoy her
I’m going away a while,
My body will take my place.
Enjoy yourself.
Don’t be embarrassed,
I won’t be here to see what you’ve done.
No repurcussions
What will you do?
Who will you make me for you?
Now I’ll go and you
Enjoy her. No, really it’s fine.
LRose
Girl
Girl on a
Fashion mag
Defined by stillettos and a
Burkin bag
The word celebrity, a
Masquerade
Because she’s only a product
Society made
LRose
Etheree
I hated opening the body bags
Of infants zipped inside white plastic
My brain would try to protect me
Show my eyes a perfect doll
But there was no safety
When I picked them up
Because no doll
Ever felt
Cold as
Ice
LRose
Protests
My snooze alarm protests consciousness.
LROSE
Martyr
“If you kill him, you’ll make him a Martyr.”
“But if I don’t, he’ll rape me even harder.”
-LRose
The Cycling
Yesterday I slept
Today I rejoice
Tomorrow I regret
-LRose
Dendrites
The neuron curls its dendrites
Into balloon animals
Kids laugh
And it spells your name in the air
Then it’s ball of lacy strings
A knot of nothing
And only loses its energy
When it cannot be seen
Gravity
When depression
Lifts its oppression
And mood shifts
Switches
Not gradually
Or with warning
I feel
Smile
I can’t control it
My heart pounds
Empathetic energy
Types words of encouragement
To strangers
But again
Hateful
Switches
I hate you
I want to fuck
Shut the fuck up!
My skull pieces
Pulsate
The content
Fragmented and sharp
Hypomania’s
Beautiful Fibonacci sequences
Have been ripped apart
And left me with the garbage
Normalcy exerts
It’s oppressive gravity
She holds me
For now
Fucked up Dance
Love and Hatred
Dance
My chest heaves with thier
Pounding steps
The image clears
I see
Joy and Hatred are the same person
And Apathy another enemy
Fuck
I just can’t process
Clarity passes again
Electronic colors in wave
And the unnatural whir
Of the fireplace insert
I can’t crack this shell without dying
Neurotransmitters
Gauzy wings vibrate,
Norepinephrine’s flight.
Her stinger penetrates,
Norepinephrine’s fight.
Pungent
Some may call cautery pungent. But after smelling burning flesh all day, all cooking meat smells delicious.
-LRose
Tell Me A Little Bit About Yourself
Tell you about myself?
What do you want to know?
Look at my instagram
Happy in each photo.
Or do you want statistics?
Name, age, date of birth?
The city I was born in?
Amount I’m worth?
How about some letters
At the end of my name?
Or high school, colleges,
What I became?
Or the juicy ones
That you’ll spread around?
Bipolar Type 2, Pure Obsessive,
Chronically down.
I don’t think you understand.
You can’t SEE me.
You can’t tell who I am,
By my degrees.
Not by email,
Not by text,
Not by picture,
Or what I do next.
I’m not who I was,
Nor who I am now.
Or what you see:
What I allow.
You have to talk to me
You have to learn
You can’t know a person,
It’s something earned.
There is no I AM
I cannot just BE
Bipolar, these obsessions,
They’re part of me.
I’m always changing
I don’t know who I am
I can tell you facts,
But you’ll never understand.
I’ll tell you
What I think you want to hear
Because I know how you think,
I know what you fear.
-LROSE
Her Storybook
If want to open her storybook,
You need a saw.
Get your rib spreader and your clamps,
Your scissors perhaps.
Cut her deep
Then grab between her breasts,
Her ribs open like a book.
But if you try to read her,
Try to take a look,
There’s just guts and blood and pills.
Try her eyes
There you will see
Her story waiting.
But you can’t read that either.
-LRose
Thank you for having me!
“Thank you for having us!” My father said. A show of white teeth. He said it was important to be polite.
Even though we didn’t like the food.
When I was 10 I went to a friend’s house for dinner. When my dad picked me up he said, “Did you thank them?”
“Thank you for having me!” I said.
Even though I felt awkward.
When I was 13 I went for a girls sleepover.
“Thank you for having me!” I said.
Even though I didn’t have fun.
When I was 16 I met a boy named Steven. He was so cute, everyone said. We ate dinner with his dad, who swore at his Mom.
“Thank you for having me!” I said.
Even though it made me uncomfortable.
When I was 17 I met a man named Bill. He bought me a margarita I think. I went home too late.
“Thank you for having me.” I said.
Even though I vomited on the sidewalk.
When I was 18 I met a man named Roy. He said he loved me.
“Thank you for having me.” I said.
Even though I said no.
Even if
Even
If you cut me open
Midline
Ribs opening like pages on a spine
My organs reveal
You still can’t see all of me
Running safe
“Three things.. three things.. three things…”
Frantically I swept dust, stale Cheetos, and abandoned books off my table. Orphaned red and white pills sprinkled the carpet along with all the crap that used to be best intentions. Feeling as if I was keeping them waiting gnawed like an animal clawing inside my gut.
Got it! The D batteries clinked together as I dropped them into my pocket. I also grabbed my pink neon lighter, a sock, then headed out the door forever.
Sprinting down the street, wind whipped at my face, it should have been bitterly numbing, but it stimulated me. Energy surged through my body in waves, unlike any high I can describe to the common man. My laugh was lost in the wind. This unstable world, the weather, the people, the political climate, would soon be left behind. And finally I was ready to depart.
I spotted the launch pad ahead, clearly marked with yellow paint. And as their communication had directed, I sprinted toward it, and leaped over the edge.
I woke with hands and feet bound in leather. Stale drool and tears caked my skin, cracking as I opened my mouth and squinted my eyes. I let out a moan, then held my breath when my ribs objected.
Restraints hugged my wrists, but it was apathy that held me. The juxtaposition following my mania filled my limbs with lead, and solidified with time.
“Anna? Anna? Can you hear me?”
“Ughhh” I groaned.
Through squinted eyes I saw a blurry woman. She stroked my hair and I felt faint signals of pleasure. The fuzziness of my vision and mentation made her aura angelic.
“Shhhh.” She whispered. “It’s okay, you don’t need to speak. You’re in the hospital, today is Sunday, I’m your nurse Cara. You fell one story. When the paramedics arrived you were raving about replicating and leaving earth.”
I wondered how much time I had lost with this episode. Each damaged my brain more. On my bedside table was my gray hoodie, I could see the outline of D batteries in the pocket and wondered what the hell I had wanted those for.
“We have you on suicide precautions so Rob from security is going to have to sit with you at all times. I’ll be back soon dear.”
The security guard smirked. The hospital gown was much too big for me and had slipped down almost revealing my nipples. He scooted his chair closer while readjusting his groin.
I closed my eyes. Trump’s voice on my roommate’s television. A patient yelling. Rain splatting my window. Hunger gnawing my gut. I retreated into my head, simultaneously safe and imprisoned.
-LRose
For More Poems By Me
Check out my twitter for micropoetry and misc.
@redelfrose
-LRose
americandenial 