She stole a card with his name on it.
Turned it upside down and drew a grave on it.
She tore her pillow and sliced her hair.
She kissed the mirror and felt it flare.
She twitched her legs and writhed in pain.
She dreamed of a fortress and a mad horse being slain.
Lisa,love, it's 4am.
More dreams to sing and men to plunder.
Lisa Lisa, you're getting no younger.
More wood , more fire.
This world needs a blunder.
She saw him running down the hall ,flowers hidden in the folds of his wrap.
She accused the heavens and sang to the rain.
She fought with the oceans and she cooked for the maid.
She held her honor on the thinnest of blades, then kissed it softly and let it waste.
She rode the snowman and ate the toad.
She cut her veins and laughed at her soul.
Lisa, love, its 4pm.
More dreams await and men feel the hunger.
Lisa Lisa,you're getting no younger.
More love , more anger.
This world needs a blunder.
I say, WOW! That was simply astounding - unbelievably, unnervingly brilliant. I have never quite read anything like this; it really did give me the chills. You're amazing, love, you're going places!
ReplyDeleteDid you just say all of that! You have NO idea how much your appreciation means to me. I write absolute nonsense compared to your brilliant work but thanks a lot! I really don't understand how you can but I do feel good about my write up this one time. :) Thank you, love!
DeleteSo she writes... I have known her for aeons or may be more or perhaps just not. She writes...
ReplyDeleteIt starts with sillyness of teens but lisa grows to know that todays lay on a heap of dead yesterdays. Amidst decadence and death she blossoms, Lisa sings, and there is remorse in it, Lisa rhymes syllables but there is more in it...
I refuse to claim to be the judge, I am still thinking...she writes.