mardi 6 mars 2012
Alone with the horror story
This is something I whipped up yesterday for the Alone With The Horrors facebook page "storytime": i.e. write a story, poem or whatever inspired by the picture above. I wasn't totally satisfied with what I posted, hence the change in a couple of lines. I'm still not totally satisfied with it but hey, I guess you've got to start somewhere.
You didn’t believe me
When I said she was my mom
How would I know, you started saying
Then caught yourself and looked away
You were trying to be nice
I hate that you know
The second time you were honest, sort of
When you talked about delusion
Being normal, considering
And then silence - even more insulting
Just because we don’t know any
Doesn’t mean my mother couldn’t be one
Don’t you think your gran would have said something
Like you didn’t know granny
She thinks movies are gateways to hell
Having an actress for a daughter
Would be enough to disown her
If she didn’t kill and bury her in the backyard first.
This isn’t from a movie you twat
It’s just some silly old pic
Like you think this was what
Taken at some picnic
If it was in 3D you argue back,
We would have heard about it
Cause we both know that we are
Walking books of knowledge
I swear if you weren’t
The last person on earth my age
I wouldn’t even bother
And I’ll die before I cry
Before you
Anyway
I finally stole those glasses
The one with lenses red and blue
From the five and dime down the road
And I’ll be damned if I tell you
About the things you’ll never see
Because I know you won’t believe me
If I told you that she smiles
When no one else is looking
But me
You won’t believe it
When she starts waving
Beckoning, smiling wider
Till I’m lost in the picture
I am lost in the picture
It is so dark I cannot tell
The forest from the trees
The shadows in the tomb
From the black hole of the womb
All I know is that she’s waiting
Until no one is looking
For me
The next time you watch this
I know you’ll be thinking of me
You will know then that I know
So much more than you do
For now
You think you’re just looking at her
When she’s the one looking at you
But you don’t know if I’m looking
While you are all looking
For me
What is Jared's attic?
Basically the place where I store pretty much anything that couldn't fit in my living room or yours. That means most of the things I usually try to hide under the carpet: stories, poems, rants and the occasional recipe for mending a heart or stopping it cold. Feel free to join in or recoil in horror.
(Note that the creation of this blog has nothing to do with the fact that I was bored and trying new ways of procrastinating on a cloudy afternoon.)
(Note that the creation of this blog has nothing to do with the fact that I was bored and trying new ways of procrastinating on a cloudy afternoon.)
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