"the doctor said she was a cuckoo child."
theorise: my baby can't deny me nothing
i can't voice a world to curl 'round my feet.
and i remember it all so clearly. i can imagine and see none of it at all.
you must have spiraled in all those pictures you see of it, you must have seen everything and more and more and more --
and i hated you for it. just a little bit
and does my baby know ?
i still do.
i flinch at the petal sky
and wonder if it was a soft wet thing to you
when you were high on melt-in-the-mouth trips
and what did you see, honey? what did you see, i can imagine i can't see any of it at all -- tell me --
no don't tell me another thing
don't say another word --
i hope lucy
cut her throat on all those bitter diamonds in the sky;
i hope she slit her wrists
and i hope she dared not breathe
another sigh
and you were not home. you were foreign land to me. i was alien.
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YOU ARE READING
THE OCEAN
Poetry'In the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to look a little dark and threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored patches arose in it and spread, black shadows moved about in them, the roar of the beasts of prey was quite different now, and...
