"Buy Her Wheels and Shimmering Things..."

[psalm_onethirtyone]

And, in continuation with my plans to become the most boring person alive: more poetry. Poetry very much influenced by sockefeller's comics, no less. (Seriously, though, you should read her comics, they're creepy as hell and pretty much awesome.)

Physiology

When I broke open the tight cage of my ribs
hoping that something good would spill out, like
candy or pennies
or bright shiny answers for my magpie eyes
to store in the holes of trees
or weave into a glittering nest,
I wasn't ready.

I thought it would be easy to look inside myself,
at the slick red heart and
matted roots of lungs, the
long ridged tunnel of my esophagus.
I thought the only challenge would be science
and its italicised Roman letters
leading me away from the truth by showing me
the biological processes.

And then I cracked through the broad white bone
and shed light into the caves
where the rainwater wears away at the stone.
Hidden in the corded vines of muscle
I found vaulted storerooms
stocked with bitterness, and
the dark clutching hunger that demands satisfaction.
They were spilling down like treasure piled
beneath a dragon.

Like a master surgeon, I tried
to put everything back the way it was before.
I sealed myself up again, and washed my hands.
I buttoned my shirt over the long scar
and now
I collect bright things for my nest
and I never go underground.

~~~

More boring, however, than poetry is the fact that I now have a twitter account. So if you are interested in following the fairly inane stream of thoughts that I have on a daily basis, there's that.