Identity

I exist as

 

(bang!)

the giggling loneliness who harbors

raindrop tears and thunder curses beneath Well Ajusted’s smoggy

clouds of trick-dog conformity.

 

(whoosh!)

virgin-silk Courteousness’ pocket missile

of nuclear nothingness pointed at Normal’s dollhouse reverie.

 

(zizang!)

an alien; illegal and extraterrestrial,

singing Martian mariachi haikus on Average’s emerald lawn.

 

(vroom!)

tattoo-vine arms with a whooping poltergeist head seated in the front row

at Amazing’s punctilious graduation parade.

 

(ding!)

an unnecessarily necessary  component of the constant resuscitation of Boring’s

self-reassurance; a daily half-mast zipper evaluation of normalcy.

 

(oof!)

a convenient target for Judgment’s breathy snickers and Dracula-cough mockery.

 

(kapow!)

a trick-or-treat grab bag of multi-flavored trumpet-voiced inappropriate comments

 

and the world loves me as much as its closet opiates and candy-coated bigotries

 

because I exist.

Author's Note

another experiment

Reviews

[What happened to simple..]

tattoo-vine arms,, sexy, I almost imagine silver engraved ivy trailing up her arm, which is now a line I'm going to feed into a poem, thank you very much Mr. inspiration =) xx

[Kerry O'Connor]

It's like a poetic comic book - with each onomatopoeic word becoming a visual frame preceding the next exciting installment (This review is kind of experimental too)

[Robin]

Slappin' hands on table diggin' it .