Memories

Seep through the cracks 

of our memories (and more memories and more memories)

Then we charge a karma credit card at the store that buys our memories to keep them; own them.

Walk down memory lane but drive your car

past the exit "Insane"

Little girls will run into the road

You're such a wreckless driver, Joe.

Haunted by memory rats, thousands are scratching to get inside

I am hiding and locked in a bedroom to keep you all safe..

They are such, tiny, pointless things

But in numbers they can bring it.

Hope is all I have 

But wait- there is a window in the back of the room

Maybe I should open it to go to yet another 

room.

"Laura!" I hear my mother cry- maybe she'll get a fucking job this time.

My ears have been melted off

by her acidic liquid lies

I am nothing yet her soup won't kill me yet

I am nothing yet maybe

I will be

Death, cradles of filth, rock-a-bye baby in the tree top, not strong enough yet.

"Climb down," the hills sing in a lullaby, "Climb down to me."

Mother Earth has me 

memories, memories.

Denial, file a mental file, another boy in the grave.

He always buries himself before I can say I do.

Then they are zombies growling from my door, bed, window, trying to get into my bed.

Bed, my bed is ice.

Laid in our bed, our faulty love wed.

         a cracked human doll

at the end, searches for a places to lay her head.

My baby is dead, haunting me.

Heart beating in my chest,

pound, pound, pounding on my front door

Or is that my head?

A house so tiny my mind lives, so fucking full of fucked up shizz.

A knock at my door, a heart - fuck it's too big!

Now its walls are caving in, bowed in because thick red blood is bubbling in.

Silent trees and silent hills

Quiet, quiet- I can hear a hiss.

No no, not the time for a kiss.

Laura Gilbert

alexandragilbert393@yahoo.com

freelance poet and singer/songwriter.