P / P Poetry: Dumpster Diving for Consciences

Written By: Jasmine Conrad


Necks crack, eyes twitch
So hungry for life,
I can hardly stomach it
Each sunrise heats up a regret
Each full moon inspires a soul-based contract
Sign the line with blood red ink
Now your lunges are filled with sulfur
Its much easier to think
The road is hot
Orange stones burn your souls feet
In your head the name of your angel is on repeat

Don’t look back
Hold my breath, squint my eyes
Wide rimmed pupils only open hearts for demise
The less I see the bigger my appetite
The less sleep the more I crave the night

Dry fingers reach for stars and devour them
Still hungry I drink their auras and chant names on a whim
Gas combust inside me, but not spontaneously,
Destruction is rhythmic,
and definite.

Internalized methods of demise are calculated and not shared
Mama would worry about the thoughts that flourish up there
Sorry mama but you gotta let my soul go
It wants to crawl in the dirt
And in alleys, not walk but roll
And rock,
and get kicked in the teeth
The man in red laughs because for this show, not him, I paid a fee
I told the angel on my shoulder he could take the night off
Now I’m caught behind a dumpster with my conscious off

My hearts around my ankles
Got no hands to pull it up, put it back in
Knew I would loose to the dark before this shit could really begin
But now I’m running on sulfur fumes, got nothing left to loose
Eyes black,
but not dead,
pupils over stretched
over used

My love’s elastic is worn out,
my adventure has dried up
My tongue feels new,
but my hands look old
Mom said its time to retire my stiletto-cradled heel,
Maybe trade them for some shapeups
I think I’ll break my ankle first,
let the fog smudge my make up
thick fog in indigo skies sponges out mistakes
I’ll just sit on slanted curbs
Chew on my heart
And wait


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