La Teatrista

guerillera de la cultura

Sunday, June 18, 2006

My trips of trips

Just a rhyme just a riff
shakey fingers needing company
needing face needing
lips and eyes and a whole other human next to me
here while I sing such sad verses
thinking only deafly thinking
I am only

A Shower later
a bowl later and memories flood in
pictures of forgotten people
a flood
a gate
like a fierce daymare
when I thought of the comfort of a simple
dolls dress in my fingers a laughter
sad girl
sad girl
everything is so still so still
no breeze to make the leaves shimmy
nothing
but an empty box
I find no other way than this
pure hussy bone way
seems like a fine shade I built around me
I do silly things I do
sad things
I can do great things too
sometimes nothing
oh sad girl oh sad girl
you fell hard you fell down you fell small
I can't go down.
But I found me
deep down I remember sad me
the me I that didn't want to
the me that couldn't want to
see anything but sad bliss
like the wounds that feel yummy and warm
with its dull stab
the sad drain
keys are keeping me company
these I just found, never knew or maybe
just forgot about.
I can't find someone I know
on this clock that is ticking
and ticking and ticking inside
along with a song in my mind
some pieces
like never before

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