Endless thoughts stuck
on these blue walls
years of pain
embedded on its frames.
echoes in the dark
when hearts were heavy
and in sleeping one was stuck.
At day so warm
and very full of life
at night so still
an eerie cold delight.
A confined condition
to feed your emotional state
in chained restrictions
insanity breathes your fate.
Obsessions with isolation,
on an invisbile probation,
where space creates friendships
with me, myself and I.
Limited to the necessities
a bed, a chair, a draw
trapped in mental obscenity
crying on the wooden floor.
Cut off my head and
squeeze and grind upon my seeds,
use me up for opium
to numb your veins and
I will stand here, just stalk remaining
and grow again – just in case your
syringe gets empty.
Grow strong from my
gift that pumps your heart and
oozes out my jagged edges,
grow big watching my red petals fade so you
don’t feel so grey.
Chop me down some more-
there might be something left.
Don’t hurt your neck.
Copyright Emily Starr 2008
On A day Like This
The track I followed this morning in a landscape that
once was Eden but, since the gardeners were fired
had gone to seed, was dry and exuded unrelieved ire.
Leaves on bushes were rusty shaving blades, tried to
cut me up and drink my blood; neglected olive trees
tried to trip me up with sudden exposed roots wanting
to absorb my body so they, full of revulsion, could live
for hundred more years. Dead rabbits in the glade they
had been stabbed by blades of grass sharp as a mafia
assassin’s stiletto; furred creatures shivered in their
burrows. Hurt I made it to the main road where a nurse
waited, sticking plaster, a soft bosom and the aroma of
motherhood, she was my friend and lover, but, alas,
only as virtual as friends in the facebook are.