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Abstract Fantasy of Your End-All Coping Skills

by Trisha De Gracia

Severed ties between the thinking being that was me
and the hopeless aspiration
perfect (broken) pristine vision that I wanted.
Starfallen tide-driven liquid-dreamwaters
that threw me in and churned me out
have left me with nothing but sand in my teeth
and a misguided hope for Love At First Sight.
Your suicide scars and your unsung poetic
'love's gone and went' tunes
they all miss the mark
and head straight for my throat.
Just about now the moon starts to roll in the sky
and the stratosphere shakes
and the waters of Wonderland
swell, and then into a wall
of some shimmerfluid brilliance
(beauty's in every tragedy,
raging)
and suddenly, there goes the world!
It's fallen off it's pedastal,
into the mortal universe,
down to the stone age,
back where the cries of death were reptillian.
We're plunged into a forever dark and hunted,
forgetful and neanderthalic view of what life is
- natural, the way it should be...
and there you'd stand,
in a loincloth and eyeliner,
laughing at my pick-up lines
and verbal forget-me-not sentiments.


09/23/2003

Author's Note: This must the be the oddest piece I've ever created here. I get it...i'mnot sure if anyone else will even remotely be able to relate to it.. we shall see...

Posted on 09/24/2003
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Rachelle Howe on 09/25/03 at 08:36 PM

you rock. marry me? hehehe. i'll comment more later, when i pull my jaw up off the floor...

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