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russian roulette
by Ava Bluyou're the last gimmick,
the played out record that skips on the player
the fake pupil
trying too hard to be real
you stay up all night
writing drivel in the early hours
because your head can't let you sleep alone
images on the channels
as you flip through
only cause the monotony to close further in
and you wonder why you're alone
but decide it doesn't matter
because at least you're not like everyone else
those poor souls you feel pity towards,
the ones standing on the golden gate bridge
ready to jump
if only you were that brave
that much of a coward to end something you didn't begin
it's of no use to try to save you
because your ego thinks you're fine
it's only late at night
when you write drunken poetry
that your fingers catch up with your heart
and you realize how sad you are.
05/26/2009 Author's Note: keep playing, asshole
Posted on 05/27/2009
Copyright © 2026 Ava Blu
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 05/27/09 at 04:03 AM A pretty brutal contrast to the other piece, and a very, very striking example of just how diverse your work can be. Quiet one moment, vicious and raging the next. This one has so much power in its voice, in how clearly the words are being stamped down. But what's so great about this is how you never let the anger overwhelm the words. It stays the course and plays with the person this was directed towards until you happen to feel like finishing them off. And whoeever this is indeed for, well, they could never hope to come up with a response as good as this. |
| Posted by Jo Halliday on 05/27/09 at 04:01 PM I think, Ava, if he realizes how sad he is, he's brave enough. Interesting poem though; I would need to think more on it. |
| Posted by Nanette Bellman on 05/28/09 at 07:21 PM If he knew better, he'd stop playing with you. This is raw and sharp, definetly goes for his jugular. |
| Posted by Wayne Tate on 05/28/09 at 10:46 PM This is perfect Ava. I can feel the damage coming off of the page. Thanks for taking up space. |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 05/31/09 at 12:28 PM This is a poem that ought raise a trembling shudder in said person. We all know someone who is like this. The odds are against such person recognizing him/herself. Still, what a cathartic feeling to read this as if I was saying it directly (to said person.)
Terrific writing, Ava. |
| Posted by Olivia Martin on 07/05/09 at 08:48 PM Retaliation at its finest, amazing job. |
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