poetry
For more writing samples, please contact Jessie Miller at: jessiemillersmind@gmail.com
the wrong time is swelling
static from the bedroom
my stomach sits by the door
it has not slept
a girl screams into the night running water
knowing she has no leader
where is your home
if it has three entrances
a gruesome sense of humor
cannot
walk around
you say a lot at someone else’s house
an underlying tendency
you cannot hear the music
accidentally
you see something suspicious within this state of flux
believing in anyone else
you neglect the crown covering your head
wanting
not wanting
a frail sound creeping downstairs
under a deep sigh
the curse of sheets
hides
autumn blush
​
how could I walk over
when resting right behind her navel
the midnight moon
was a present for me
I clung like a skeleton’s hand
and soon the twisted tree began to reek
extremities rotting
because they did not know the question
the aetheric link
yes with all my might I warn you
the injury is as irrevocable as your gaze
a friend drug along the beach
making time for chit-chat
and in this night
I ate myself
body up
in the water
I never closed my eyes
*
her shrouds carried her blushing
another village fell away
no longer able to distinguish color
why did it have to be several women
pigeons beyond repair
they are all wisps
sapping from uneven sidewalks
believing there’s nothing to fear
another hour
*
you must be exhausted
make yourself comfortable
no here
not there
now hide your costume and find a suitable plank
don’t fall asleep
we’re almost there
*
he savored them serenely
as if his mother had brought them in
the reflections in the windows smear with adrenaline
his figure stays
waiting for the girl
*
your language is broken
if I cannot understand you
I will expect you
*
I combed her hair for her
cotton shirt rubbing against her face
how did it become night
if we have not disrobed
as she muzzled my rebel battleship
I intended to narrow the trail but
*
another dissolution
a blotted lust letter
the whore’s manifesto everyone spat on
the grass aches underneath our feet
the earth is clenching its insides
it cannot be responsible
she is incapable
*
dark corridor
a dumpster filled with empty space
*
the message units are rusted
and all employees have been dispatched
mass produced words
cheap by any fool
slammed shut by considerable pressure these bins are no longer valuable
rat feces trails lead to remaining life
stitched mouths
and barren elders
why were the stories never spread
the quilt was thrown into the ambers
upon entering the sphere read between these words before MASTER eats each letter
allow
these words to whisper
within your head as I speak to you now
because fusion
costs more than a human
frame
and your mother
must worry
without her loving devotion, and with the potential
to engulf oneself
inside the dark
organic
spaces
you are now
MASTER’S shell
and he will disembowel
your current
mirror
his grin
constantly meandering down
towards his neck
of bloated wrinkles
from years of dehydration
followed by copious amounts of juices
being pumped
MASTER hopes
that you will
admit
need
and become yet another vision
of blankness