Hollow Poem by orangecat bluebandanna

hollow....

who pretended to listen to me?
who really never listen to me? who thought it where jokes of what matter to me.
of depression in voices, in hidden
personalities, i rolled old cigarette butts into new cigarettes, with ash
stained finger tips, drank used instant coffee from old water in the kettle,
for days, on the stove, with paranoid calming, thoughts of the enamel seeping
into the steaming water, pouring it into
the brown dust of coffee bean powder, just sipping, scattering books that were
unread on the floor of someone else’s room, crumbling

of all my floating thoughts quaking on torn to shred newspapers of revelations
left randomly
in
bathroom stalls,

aisles of convenient stores,

the laundry mat,

pizza shops,

basements I’ve boarded,

rooms i've destroyed,

on this floor along with me, crumbling

like the paper turning off all the
lights keeping this house alone,

dark,

blind,

filling the air,

car’s engines,

machines, killing all silence and
thought.

birds fell asleep as i woke

on this cold christmas day,

physically alone, wanting to stay

only alone,

forgetting, the actions i took alone,

then waking, alone

while i kill myself in my
dreams

during the past,

who should’ve killed itself,

unprepared for attempts;

no rope,

gun,

or my own knife,

passing out

drunk,

vomit keeping me a float

in the middle of
dead poetry,

attempting to finish something


for once

not even of one's own life

one's last letter


to the men of blue

to only have read it.

to no others for whom it was meant.

the robe of black.

to judge it.

for no others for whom it was meant

to be judged.

hitting cement side walks

of crowded main-streets.

in sky scrapper cities.

of the tops of the highest.

waking up in shock,

of where i've never been,

of tops of cities.

i've never been,

will never visit,

but in dreams. i've visited.

in blank eyes of mine,

in those dreams.

the blankness of my mandible dropping,

and eyes hazy.

of silence of my lips.

in
those dreams.

holding smiles, locking palms,

of that strange women

whom one has never


met.

but on top of cities,

we seem to always dive

into one another’s retinas

with the colors mixing

together.

swirling into a gray,

adding the color of the sun,

draining the, the light of day,

to make a pitch black orange sky.

stealing the stars and

throwing

them away

taking a bite from the moon

then spitting it out into each others mouths

spitting

all over everyone

we are so high

crushing each cloud.

as god and goddess

opening eyes

hungry and only a mortal

the next full moon.

ill be fully prepared;

of rope

and stole

of gun

and bullet,

or my own knife carving all of your names

with hers on my chest

digging in

scratching down notes on my palms

of love,

art,

sounds,

society,

and drunk babbling.

watching of these stars

turn off,

in our universe,

in others.

conversations of stranger’s love,

of hate in jealousy,

of death,

in the rain of the first winter day,

alone

pleasure of smoke from exhaust,

cigarettes,

tearing throats up
shredding lungs
pleasuring the world.