Look to the lake at Lakeside for meaning in me.
What am I to you, besides a rendezvous who can never stay?
Imprints on you, fingertips crashing
Where once love could be
Look into me, cut into me and peer down the cavity
Is it pink and beautiful in there?
You say my aura could fill a classroom
I believe you, I've seen it happen
In your opinion, how well does the color of bubblegum describe me?
My insides are laffy taffy
Hardening, softening, borderline and unsure of what to become.
When I am with you, breathing you, unlacing you over and under again,
I am the sweetest metaphor ever written by man
Like butter with no fat, I am vivid but impossible.
No peace treaty compares
Except the lake at Lakeside the day I discharged.
How did it feel, to drive through the labyrinth only to leave behind so many who'd kill to go with you?
Dying souls in what is akin to a cemetary
Nothing moves here, only the workers
Who laugh as if they are not amist depressives
I do not mind.
For them, this is a job.
And everything's fun when you're leaving a funeral
Fun is all I have seeked since origin
There are not 5 wolves in me, there is 1
And it wants to party with you
Chase you around your apartment
Hopscotching, crawling, teething
Play music through YouTube on the TV
Let the birds overlook us
I don't want leashes
I don't want handcuffs
I just want corndogs and bright, summer evenings
I'd wake up early, go to bed exhasuted
Just to be written as a sweeter metaphor than honeysuckles, more reactive than hydrangeas
Not alert. I'm cucumberly
Ana will judge me, in the way she always does
Everyone will judge me, in the way teenagers always do
We will be too busy laughing over my FASFA
Lying on my college essay together
I choose you, my dirty martini
Swigging Bailey's out the bottle
Giggling like gay carrion
Southern as tobacco
Yet just as blue as the lake at Lakeside
I must lie knowing I can never fix you
Questioning the existence of brokenness.
This is not the age of pleasure, it is the age of identity
Who am I? Who are you? Who is the beast I become when my tears are too much and I want you to stop?
The dictionary says I am an alphabet of diagonses
A child of schizophrenia, a daughter of divorce
Who gave me the joy I feel when my eyes row backward, canoeing across the blue?
You say I am so many beautiful, intelligent things
And I say you are my panacea
If only my mind could pave anything in concrete
My opinion is evolving every moment I'm alive
If I keep eating my past before it can settle, everything will spew out of me
Spillage is what brought me here
Your apartment is too small to hold all my liquids
The door will break open from the pressure, and pink will explode out into the cul de sac
Still I will want to consume.
You will never fufill me
My ambition is a shadow that reaches further than me.
You cannot shrink it, but you can make it Still
Calm like the lake at Lakeside.
YOU ARE READING
An Enigma Is Too Much For A Cat To Eat
Puisipoetry from the raw heart of a teenage girl. I wrote this poetry collection throughout my junior year of high school, when so much change was underneath the sun's aura. In and out of depression, in and out of the psych ward, I survived the first ha...
