Purpose
A lobotomy would be nice.
All emotions pressed out
by shocks of blankness,
my hands laying flat
and upward towards the sky.
I cannot feel your hatred
or your tenderness.
I am in a long, sweet
abyss of nothingness.
I am the person I always
wanted to be--
soft and sweet like
cotton candy.
I dream that I am Dorothy
in The Wizard of Oz.
Toto rambles beside me.
The yellow brick road
awaits me--
I have a purpose now.
Chipped Smiles
Chipped smiles roam
the streets--
unhappiness reigns
like a King in his Kingdom.
A cold memory moves
in my brain--
suddenly my feet are frozen
and I am back in Idaho
where snow falls heavily
upon the tattered streets.
Nobody is outside--
crackling fires ignite
the indoors and everyone
feigns contentment.
Still a long-married
couple's sex hangs
in the air like
a deer's head--
dead, glassy eyes
look out into the abyss.
Gone
My stomach dreams
of something ripped from it.
My soul dreams
of tattered bits of blue
raining down like
a ticker-tape parade.
My mind holds cold blanks--
it does not know what
to think since I said it is over.
Memory moves like snow drifts--
holding onto the highs
and shoving the lows
into the hooded background.
Two red beating hearts
stopped dead like a dog
that freezes to death
from the elements.
Take notes.
Dawnell Harrison has been published in over 200 magazines and journals including Mobius, poetrymagazine.com, Pyrokinection, Queen's Quarterly, Nerve Cowboy, Fowl Feathered Review, and many others. Also, she has had five books of poetry published, including Voyager, The Maverick Posse, The Fire Behind My Eyes, The Love Death, and The Color Red Does Not Sleep.
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