Jen Juice

You can’t fix stoopid…My anti-autobiography related
To the non-relation to the family
And where did I come from? Cuz, the last time
I saw the torrid affair between the monitor
And the past I’ve been resurrected from…
Shown nothing like the doll complacent
Like I show….except, only if I really really like you.-
Then there is the abrasive abandonment of characteristics
and a pretty smile to jack up the disinterment of the lollipop
in my mouth..that somehow turns them on like you wouldn’t believe..
and I don’t..believe.
in much..just the way of the road I see..and don’t.
Cuz mothers and fathers don’t really hail an existence of hope
– just a feux dial and a mocked adventure
When I crouch down and hold the phone
I lock up around my neck and choke…
And deep breath for the miles and miles
Of heretics…that soak
The moments and the non-logic and the sacred senses
And somehow, I always find a way out….

This entry was posted on May 12, 2011 at 7:37 PM and is filed under Jencerpts.. with tags Deeper, Poetry, Rawness, Reaching, Sickness. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.