Jeremiah Walton

by Horror Sleaze Trash on October 4, 2013


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Gypsy Woman

Woman dressed gypsy
my poem between her breasts.
write me a poem
pull bee stings from my tongue
I am malleable like a melting candle
this poem is covered in wax.


There’s 2 strange kids
conversing in front of me
one Dominican, one rolling
another joint

The Dominican reminisces finding a pack of cigarettes on the ground
laughing like he found a winning lottery ticket
scratched out and broken on the sidewalk

The Ocean Is On Fire

I read a girl a love poem
a girl who names oceans.
She wants no more than friendship
she’s dial toning her ex’s voice.
I am the blank tone of desperation, horny
in sepia. Pig
in pink.
I walk her home, nonchalant
I told her poem was my way of telling her of my feelings
I did not tell her that her poem was my feelings.
She said her ex was still calling her.
She is answering the phone for him.
I drop her off, walk home
alone. I’m thinking about
how I presented myself,
how I read the poem, how I stumbled
cause I’m a nervous kid
acting older
did I make her uncomfortable while reading?
I saw her thigh shifting after sixth line.
Shit. I’m over analyzing
I’m sweating humidity
Venting anger with the world on holes in my thought processes.
I read a girl a poem
and only could think about myself.
I read a girl a poem
and learned I’m self-centered.
I read a girl a poem
and learned that im ignorant
I wrote a poem after reading a poem to a girl naming oceans
and I can’t be drunk enough to breathe.
I’m writing myself mad in a poem
I’m writing the morning for a poem lost in the dark.
The moon fell down today.
The news didn’t notice.
I am not ungrateful for your company. We can be friends.

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