It's just poetry, it won't bite

eight stages of flow

02.24.14 Posted in today's words by

Destiny Vaughn is a freelance writer and poetry editor of Hemingway’s Playpen. Her work has been published in White Ash. She studies creative writing at San Francisco State University.

eight stages of flow
By Destiny Vaughn

i. i flow free like the seine–religious content
pumps through my veins, electric flow
sparks revolutions in my brain

ii. i chain smoke (call it parisienne)
to ease the pain
my lips taste like burnt cheap espresso
from the terrorist of eclectic
thoughts and dreams alike.
the smoke, a mangled mixture
but it’s my dangerous haven

iii. i never crawled out of my chrysalis
walls crackle around me
finally spreading
my translucent, milky wings to fly
but my wings get cut by nail clippers,
i do not cry as the black and white
bleeds to gray
and pools up into the unknown

i speak

iv. mother mother dare i say,
i do not love him i love her
and i will never call myself a sinner.
do not pray for me.

v. mother’s lies and denials?
they swoop through the sky
hawk eyes focused on the prize of taking me
to the land of normalcy.

vi. renounce my baptism & i’m instantly
thrown out like lukewarm baby formula
sitting out all night

vii. common eyed
naked thoughts
you speak
i hear broken
radio static
i speak you see
lips moving with no sound

viii. state of emergency
plunges from the darkness
this is my world
your static causes friction
pricks me like a thorn
but never changes


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