self portrait # 6 : lemon
i am a salted lemon
more of a thick skin
with open pores and
acidic speech that
eats away at your surface
burning your tongue
so that you’ll want to
taste me again and again
yes, i am bitter
so, what’s your point?
JANEisnotplain2005
Saturday, June 18, 2005
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
self portrait #5: 4/05
self portrait #5 : 4/05
this is me.
the acid in my skin makes carbonation disappear. it lets nothing inside or left tied to the frame. works to keep arsenic coated ventricles pumping.
this is me.
a sketched image of scars and shaking limbs and angles of myself i never meant to discover but unfolded and refolded into honesty’s lonely palm.
this is me.
army of one in disarray living by the wayside. righting wrongs written on bareback breasts with the 2 bit melody of a 9-millimeter. a cavernous calamity.
this is me.
the pavement lays sparkling cold beneath my bare feet. i’m poised like a broken trophy on a dusty shelf of bleached lives and vain curvatures called smiles.
this is me.
what will you do now that i am standing naked in front of you? what will you do now that i have one more layer to shed
what will you do now that i have nothing left to give?
this is me.
copy write JANE2005
(on Z)
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
self portrait #4: i am this poem
self portrait #4: i am this poem
i look like the lipstick on a collar, this piece of pansy
a vulnerable dream made pink with bleach and a vigorous spin cycle
i come out easily with toxic chemicals and listerine
only the faint remains, an unconscious trace of lines
forgotten, remembered in a present mind
and now they ask who i am
i am invisible words on a page
parallel between the lines
between the messages scrawled
on the bathroom stall
at 2AM.
i am a nameless faceless ninety-five pages
of text nailed against a heartless king's door
with a complaint for a face for an age
an image of the who and the who i am
like myself and me and i
i am a loveless easy speak on a page without signature
a sensation pressed on pale leather like a hot brand
an icon, a piece of eye, a configuration of fingerprints
smeared while writing on a wall
with my loaded pencil
i am visible words on a page
lines of parallel between
the messages scrawled
on the bathroom stall
at 2AM.
i am this poem
JANEisnotplain ’05
i look like the lipstick on a collar, this piece of pansy
a vulnerable dream made pink with bleach and a vigorous spin cycle
i come out easily with toxic chemicals and listerine
only the faint remains, an unconscious trace of lines
forgotten, remembered in a present mind
and now they ask who i am
i am invisible words on a page
parallel between the lines
between the messages scrawled
on the bathroom stall
at 2AM.
i am a nameless faceless ninety-five pages
of text nailed against a heartless king's door
with a complaint for a face for an age
an image of the who and the who i am
like myself and me and i
i am a loveless easy speak on a page without signature
a sensation pressed on pale leather like a hot brand
an icon, a piece of eye, a configuration of fingerprints
smeared while writing on a wall
with my loaded pencil
i am visible words on a page
lines of parallel between
the messages scrawled
on the bathroom stall
at 2AM.
i am this poem
JANEisnotplain ’05
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