under the influence of giants

by suicidallyanonymous

Bleed summer out with
empty hands like broken bottles,
and a shoe that never fits;
crickets don’t play their songs
on plywood violins, anymore.

They left patchwork melodies
where dissonance tastes like danger;
a hurricane and tequila, toothpick
umbrella on the side.
And puke pink lemonade
on a not-so-virgin sidewalk,
murky with chalk art
and summer skin, browning
like peach pie.

Water-drunk lawns
at fifty cents a gallon,
and green-apple grass clippings
to let all ninety degress
of raw freedom
to tear a heart wide open.


3 Comments to “under the influence of giants”

  1. vivid! Exceptional writing dear!

  2. Your imagery is sharp-toothed.

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