Some of her Parts
Posted by Natascha Tallowin on 22 February 2010 | Views: 2842 | 0 Comments
Posted by Natascha Tallowin on 22 February 2010 | Views: 2842 | 0 Comments
Jennifer Schecter.
For you the words from a salted tongue
Used to pepper pages of precious thoughts
Unwound.
Words shrivel from your tongue
Your eyes a glacial picture of togetherness and sanity
But behind them rots the dream of oneself
An ingénue, a writer
A naive, complicated saboteur,
A puzzle
A monster.
Jenny Schecter.
You are the demon that tempts me
A child immortalised behind the fictional facade
Of a tragic alter ego – Sarah Schuster
A girl washed up on the shores of a daydream
Fastened into place with a full stop.
Jenny.
Words are the best thing we can give to another human being.
They know the reality of your mind.
At the end of your fingertips, the world is sublime
A place of freedom, pontillised reality and realist fiction.
It is only when you look up
That the categorical distinction between brains that know reality and brains that don’t
Comes into play
And the weather vane that points so accusingly in your direction
Takes on a much more sinister charm than before, when the mere sight of it had tortured your imagination with pleasure
Jen.
For you the fruit of my thoughts
Masquerading as something divine when you want to eat them
And something detestable when you don’t.
Whatever your intentions toward them,
They will always be thoughts,
Dreams,
The rattle of the train next to your own leaving the station
The flicker of something in an empty room.
The creak of something unexplained at night.
A monster.
.
You could never have the freedom of a bird,
With the weight of such glorious stories upon your shoulders
The sheer weight of your human body
Shackles you to the ground.
And now you will sit
Forever weaving tales
Perpetually waiting.
For the wind to lift you off of your feet.
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