K, here's a poem I wrote a while back. The last line is something odd that someone odd actually said to me, and the rest of the poem grew out of there. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think this might be about. I am wondering if it's clear enough.
Have to find something else to think about
That man has a hook arm
Metal, impenetrable arms
Wait—How does he pick his nose?
Dead fish in the marketplace, grey, cold, dead
Almost out of money; have to return to work soon
Razor blade, poisonous, keen
Where are my house keys!?
Okay, they're in my pocket
I can’t do this
No drinking fountain on this damned bus
Blood, worms, dust
Forever unused bottles of nail polish and perfume
Our little bridge over the Napa River going by
A stop, and there goes Captain Hook
More Mexicans get on
The barren future
My headrest is gone
Where are we!?
Downtown, all the people, moving, unmoved
So thirsty, always now
Foamy, spongy food; all I get anymore
Is that Tina Davidson? Has she heard?
Just look away--Can she see?
Uncomfortable bench, no seatbelts
Rusted, sinking nobody
Mouth dry, needing kisses
Have to pee, have to hold it
Always, always, have to hold the liquids in
Time to clip my nails again; no reminder
Last month is swallowing me
Train of thought slipping
Quickly, anything else
Scientific advances within the last hundred years
A kitten, and fleas sucking the life out of it
Frowning Arabian crossing guard, sweaty
Should have seen the signs
A bit ill; no more corn flakes at home
Chuck's baptism, creepy, necessary?
Guy across the aisle looks like a turtle, wizened
Cracking world made of solid ice
A bell, a light, a lurch!
Now down the stairs, left, right, left
Yellowing, lumpy mayonnaise spilt on the counter last night
No one to clean it up
No one to clean it up for
Cold, insensitive smiley faces, like stars
Distorted by the atmosphere, rushing blindly past
Gamma rays on my head, hungrily biting my face and neck
Raining that day, not like today
Powdered misery, just add water
Shouldn't have eaten those microwaveable nachos for breakfast
Pushing the pavement with my feet
Should have learned to cook for myself
Have to let go
I waste too much time
What does despair taste like? Does it taste ugly?
Gouging blade in a dying wrist
Spiral checkerboard in my eyelids, hell
Here at last; the grass looks nice, green
Need to call Mom back
The empty spot of ceiling over our bed
Linoleum composure, easily wiped off
No one to clean it up for, either
How sad the caretaker woman must feel, no teeth
All her friends deep in plots against her
How do you spell resolution? How do you do it?
My shadow is being midgety right now
Falling across the erect slabs of marble
I can’t help but step on him, on you
Veins pumping black tarry sadness
Here I am, here.
Can't ever make some people happy
But I still bring flowers
I only think of you when I run out of other thoughts