Poetry – Page 32 – Jayne.press

Hangin On

Scrubbed Guts still swollen And big enough for the world to see Eyes shut tight Mind drunk on new fantasies While my Finger tips are tapped by their own thumb music is forming I can feel it in my feet -Saschia

I Tried

I never thought I had myself together But I sure tried -Saschia

My Pet

I lift my shirt And watch their animalistic features Twist and turn While I lust a long day With a pile of books The misfit kind That are discarded Assumed to finger madness Only it’s those books that speak The music of my ancestors ♡Saschia

Growth

Flowers grow in cracks sometimes Roots definitely do I can keep growing through this Wait I will keep growing through this Concrete can’t even stop me (That’s a metaphor) (Because, you know, concrete can very much stop me) ♡Saschia

Kinda Like

I need to get it out All the earthquakes and volcanic eruptions Nestled beneath the surface I can’t simmer And stew I have to be honest with me About my own feelings So they don’t control me Maybe it will help you be honest with yourself too But I’m definitely not doing this for youContinue reading “Kinda Like”

Finger Tips

the sadness the moments I freeze in fear palms on my thighs the moments I lose myself in emotion to protect my tribe they are all me pieces that will evolve and die and come back to life the smile I can’t wipe from my face the way I act likeContinue reading “Finger Tips”

Drinks

Whiskey isn’t the right drunk I know I know It runs to my brain And the talking and the mess And the freedom from social restraint It loosens Words pour Then they make no sense But the escape Oh, the escape It’s temporary, right? But it’s nice It’s nice to get away -Sasch

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