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Rude Stories  Text > Stories > old poems. not sexy, but tr...
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Rude Details Of Story Writer
 Added: Dec 9, 2007  
 Owner: SmokinCherryBomb
 Total Stories: 1

United States

old poems. not sexy, but tres cool. (Report It)

Scituate Harbor, circa 1996.

nights spent sitting on curbs
covered with wax
the sound of skateboard wheels against pavement
the occasional scratch of a deck against a curb.
fugazi playing on someone's car radio.
the door ajar, the volume at ten.
a bottle of dew in one hand
a marlboro in the other
talk of who will inherit a chunk of Brendan's lungs when he dies-so we can scrape them, smoke the resin, and get high in his memory.
heading to the snack bar at Purity
(that's where the conversation about who's in Brendan's will was...)
watching the cashiers count out - and glad I'm not among them.
looking out the huge glass window
random skaters across the small parking lot
doing tricks in front of the bank.
into the old land rover
on a quest for weed, man...
"You got any buds, guy?"
incense burning as we huddle together in back
holding on as the shockless jeep bangs over bumps in the road.
back to the harbor
boats stirring quietly
the whirring of wheels on pavement.
laughter.
nofx.
skateboards.
cigarettes.
i miss those days.


Jamie.

the scent of big red gum
the final episode of the wonder years
my introduction to White Zombie
The Cure
and "Bob".
a book with actual pictures of hermaphrodites!
toaster strudels
never
with
enough
frosting.
tales of ex-boyfriends
the way she wore her eyeliner
a sweet, yet subtle
southern accent.
eyes like that of an infant
I wonder
what she remembers
when she thinks
of
me.


untitled

i've been lying here for hours
in this cold room
insomnia wrenching my brain
along with the thoughts and the silent tears
and the words i cannot speak
watching you sleep
your eyelids twitch
your breath
unintelligible dream words
and all i can do
is sigh
as i watch
look away, I can't close my eyes
i'm only hurting myself
no part of me is numb, yet
it's like everything is wrong with me at once
i ache
my guts churn violently
my head throbs
and my heart
won't
stop
beating.
dammit.
i don't want to be here
hurting
but i can't move
and i doubt i'll feel better anywhere else anyway
loud music on the radio outside
and every
fucking
song
reminds me of what i won't have
anymore.

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