Commiting suicide, with your fingers in my hair

Tropical murders with that sweet orange juice girlfriend, that you’d spill the glow out of the moon-squeezing it like an apple till it spews out liquid light. Just frosted arrows, up on penthouses in frozen yellow clouds; big like big light. Swinging in water, our heads fall into triangles of blades, slicing, but who cares about our love. We just continue to roll around in life’s web, of whispers, and girly girls. Inhaling leathery coins through one’s nose, how can you ask me why I treat life like candy? How um, damn dandy that is Mr. Coat-is-too big, you’re fine like wine, on a night of rain, and broken promises. Those sure are some lonely nights. Weeping on the off-white carpet, crying with a bottle of wine in your left hand, and, and a cigarette in the other, so much oil emotions run though your eyes. You’re stuck in your room, with your brain stuck in a broom, and your heart stuck in last June. It’s alright lover, I hear your mechanical coughing, quite well through these thin hotel walls. These pancaked walls, are so high. My eyes are bleeding with height, my heart is beating at a million quarts, of fuel injected intakes, mistakes mistakes…all in all. I can’t wait till we die, and go to heaven. Suicide sounds too romantic to eat, let’s dine baby. And so we ate, ate all the shroomed love. Loving lovers…..leave us now. Now love, like grown consumed herb, word……word….

-Do not Disturb



About Oil Underneath

I drink glasses of cold water.
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9 Responses to Commiting suicide, with your fingers in my hair

  1. Old Ollie says:

    Nice a true wild piece…peace!

  2. Wow! This is fantastic stream of consciousness. You look too young to know all this! Really really riveting writing. Whew! Loved it.

  3. Judy Roney says:

    I enjoyed reading this for just words sake and then the surreal images. Sounds like a hallucinagenic trip (though I’ve not been on one I’m taking poetic license with the belief that this is what it would be like).

  4. This is a wonderful piece of prose poetry – you have the knack of infusing poetic rhythms within the prose and that is very difficult to do. As to content… it strikes me as an ultra-modern Romeo and Juliet death pact. Poignant and terrifying.

    • I really appreciate the critique/comment Kerry; I never thought about it being so Shakesppearean in the Romeo and Juliet sense, now that I look at it…it does. I usually write my poems at sporadic times, then revisit them some time after…so I never reflect until wayyy after. Once again, thanks!

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