Paperweight Poetry

I don't drink too much, I don't eat too much I don't buy too much But I love too much, I feel too much And I live too much Does that count as gluttony? Or does that just count as human? -anna sluder

There is a hole in the wallpaper like a flaky crust and I am the fatal typo in a poem a malfunction in the wormhole a collection of cells that slipped past the curator and became art simply because I was around it even though I was just a shoe left on the floor a notch in the wallpaper that wasn't supposed to be there but someone decided to frame And perhaps one day, you'll be passing by Moving from painting to sculpture with the depth and strength of water and the poise of the sea And you, accustomed to your Picasso and DaVinci but with a heart string for avante garde will see me and think how poetically unusual I am you may even stop and stare and this is the dream for you to pass by the collection of cells that you disapproved of that is now on the walls that you worship and not recognize Me the accidental truth. -anna sluder

Me brim weights three pends My brain weighs three pounds It's fell of madder, tidbits, sell, and thought It is full of matter, tissue, soul, and thought I don't Nidia a firings tub of weeds I do not need a feeding tube of words I knew what I deal and I'm quantitated with the palo   I know what I feel, and I am acquainted with the alphabet Quiet vending the word duck to duck Quit censoring the word fuck to duck No spay ansia me is I mean to see duck Nobody asks me if I meant to say duck Fur when I see that my fate dead and I fell like my lead ha stone to duck For when I say that my father died and I feel like my life has gone to fuck I'm no teaming about a bees that quakes and has webbed feeds I'm not talking about a bird that quacks and has webbed feet I heave me one fan vice and not using its I have my own damn voice and not using it Wood be like praying tree dollars for a cad that says I live you Would be like paying three dollars for a

And when it comes to love I'm as afraid as a hemophiliac trying to shave. -anna sluder

I'm not sure if I "love" him but I would relinquish my soul for a gesture to the answer. -anna sluder

I think I'm just a scared little girl Wrapped up in skin, hair, and pink painted nails Wearing a smile like an accessory instead of a lifestyle Pretending that tears don't actually make your eyes feel like they are on fire Pretending that kites fly free and aren't truly tied down to a string I think I'm just a scared little girl Navigating the land mines of this world Pretending that children in other countries don't get stolen from their homes And killed and raped and shot in any order the perpetrator pleases Pretending that I don't see the walls that go up like fireworks on the Fourth of July Pretending that I'm not drinking a hundred dollar bottle of champagne when half the world doesn't have water Pretending that I don't feel melancholy like another limb on days where the sky is grey Pretending that love isn't the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me Pretending that we aren't all afraid I think you're just a

I can be good, I promise. Or perhaps we could compromise? You can expect too much, And I can be soft chaos? -anna sluder