desires and passions
are strange
thoughts get stuck
in your head
in an abandoned
parking lot
life’s filter can make things
better than they appear
shag carpets
and secrets drenched
in wallpaper
you will ask
why this poem
isn’t colored in
tones
living life in
quotations until
it all feels real
and finally learning
all over again
(C) S. Lynette, 2023
you will ask
why this poem is
living on the wrong side
but that’s open
to interpretation
you will have
all sorts of questions
it will get under your skin
you will hate this poem
because of its
meaningless
stature
observation
is only part of
a result
but i’ve noticed
you only read
from the outside
which would explain a lot
(C) S. Lynette, 2023
18 days
on the inside
18 days
locked out
of your chest
mind numb
too tired
to craft
the tears
to shed
pain lingers
and only
becomes
half mended
18 days
on the inside
learning to
walk with
the lost soul
you hide
holding hands
with darkness
18 days
on the inside
stitching together
abandoned streets
to make them
18 days
stronger
(C) S. Lynette, 2023
sea of broken wonderland
body part missiles
innards from hijacking
never where
tracing the lines
to all the colors
from your eyes
paper gowns
and smothered smiles
scars you see
and those running deep
loosing dreams
in empty boulevards
wishes becoming
silent screams
you were made
with the stars in mind
trails of lunar dust
settling on your skin
suturing the wounds
with empty heartbeats
weaver of battlegrounds
skylight in the rib cage
bone marrow junction
city swiped transplants
blood sloshing on the outskirts
never where
but they don’t know you
you’re not like the others
hunger in your veins
stirring
with phantom lights
(C) S. Lynette, 2023
loving haphazardly
stories written without existence
time running backwards
it all never makes sense
and your mind tries to adjust
to find the depths one must swim
to feel the love you were meant to have
(C) S. Lynette, 2023
flower venom
field of glass
museum of the arts
beautifully flawed
midnight tongue
reckless rhymes
sliding down your throat
writings on crooked pages
plasma blossom ink
smearing dotted lines
keepin men’s splines chilled
in the wine cellar
and you scream out for more
(C) S. Lynette, 2023
love poems bitten by shadow monsters
blood red curtains close the valley
black bile floods the coastline
gun powder matter falls
vigilantes run wild
synchronized moonbeams made of glass
and underneath eyelids of dreams
you meet your consequence
(C) S. Lynette, 2023
me in a while
delicate form
soaked in gauze like
radioactive paper waste
collecting on forest beds
star gazing passing
spines made of glass
cracking
solstice summer
coated in sea grass
memory foam
hum of locus
carved in white light
between car seats
(C) S. Lynette, 2023
“A poem can have no meaning when written but can hit those who read it to the core…”
s. lynette
on any
given moment
i can write
a reckless poem
but tonight
i think of you
and words form
across this page
with tangled verbs
they caress
the folds
between
the treetops
to tell the world
you are mine
to tell the world
we are one
standing structure
being held by
the whispers
that live between
just us
(C) S. Lynette, 2023
you have always been
quite the shit talker
not one syllable out of place
junkie for not showing up where it counts
wearing a heart-shaped box
like a girdle
you’re quite the dick slinger
who won’t eat out much
gotta watch the carbs
you’re not as pretty as you think
because one has to know how to read a menu
smearing lies but she wasn’t born yesterday
she saw what you did
your girl ain’t the sperm burping gutter queen
all that porn you watch would suggest
bedroom sleeze machine
how many cum stained socks is it gonna take
to piss her off
work
gym
repeat
work
gym
repeat
for the last fucking time she is not made of clay, can’t mold a woman who knows her worth
she’s better than that
throw a few lines
of bad sarcasm in there
to make your girl feel like shit
“how many slices have you eaten?”
“better slow down on that…” as you pinch her muffin top
at a party, room full of unfamiliar glances
not good enough to say “…and this is my wife”
feeling like a cunt ass bitch you just picked up from the corner bar
waits in the car
not noticing she’s been missing for 30 minutes
she’s only there to look good for status
FUCK YOUR STATUS
and fuck all this
she fell to pieces long ago
lump of regret eating her like cancer
a ghost in the rearview
now
like all the other times
lessons has been learned here
if the shoe fits, keep running
(C) S. Lynette, 2023
Lady on a Wire 