Paperweight Poetry

"It's fine. I'm fine." She dips her nose to the table like she was smelling a flower, "Just give me another line." -anna sluder 

Sometimes when I take to the edge and taste the cold beat of oblivion in my mouth I have to soften the urge to leap dilute the impulsivity inside of me with lies that tell me that this is enough I've named it the call of the void it is the electricity between your hands and the steering wheel that hums and buzzes telling you to see what would happen if you swerved it is the appetite for destruction when your toes curl over a ledge testing out the theory of "what if" what if you jumped. It is not a suicidal thought but it is far from curiosity also. It is the urge to heave glass against a wall just to feel the power of knowing you can shatter. Yet it is also a truth we must suppress no one talks about it, but we know we've all tasted it And I know I am not alone in receiving this calling card from chaos. -anna sluder 

It is not nationalistic pride when it is an entire fleeting planet A people that think they are as immortal as the stars we've never met When in comparison to the universe and the infinite number of ions We are no more than lambs dressing like preschool lions. -anna sluder

She didn't ask me what I wanted but I told her despite I said all I want was a Christmas that is absolutely white But I don't think my mother understood that I was talking about snow For she spent that morning snorting little white flakes up her nose. -anna sluder

I fear words running out like a river dried and vaporized by the sun it is every writer's greatest fear that we will have sucked every word, color, and angle out of this language and we will be left with a castle of dried up pens and a pile of dirt and our thoughts that have no words. -anna sluder 

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I scream and I don't know why. Maybe it's because of a dream I cannot remember Or the sense of a man lurking over my bed Or maybe it's just my life. The sudden twisting fear like a fist squeezing and turning the intestines in my abdomen like a door handle Asking me with a devilish grin, "is this all you want to be?" Or perhaps it's because of all that is happened to me the things I'm not yet strong enough to utter aloud to anyone but the girl in the corner of my subconscious that quietly plays with dolls and fears. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I scream and I don't know why. True story. -anna sluder 

I saw this man wobbling like a flag caught in the wind He was on the edge of the sidewalk balancing as a tightrope walker does for the chapters of the crowd had discreetly pushed him over He was just an ordinary man Simple, like me With a brain, a liver, a heart, some eyes A person But the sky was like thick butter that day and the air was like hot breaths And he went down like a flag thrown to the ground to start a race his limp body slung over the curb and into the road like an afterthought the gravel digging into his bloodied face the cars didn't stop they just veered a little around him so that they wouldn't fully decapitate him and get charged with murder the people looked then looked away even my mother said, "come along now my love, do not worry about him". I watched the people step over him and around him like a rock, a piece of trash, a wad of gum, a piece of dog shit they didn't want to step in something out of place, sticking out...

There is some sort of relief in creating pain out of nothing just so it can be louder than the original and even though it kills I drag my pencil across the paper like a reluctant knife across a wrist A pirouette of pain then a bow of relief   And I form words out of nothing just so they can be louder than my thoughts braver than my blood that tries to dry across the page writing a story that thinks it's ready to be told when I know it's just a freckling of fear in a girl who wields a pen like a knife And a self-destruct button for a heart. -anna sluder

And there are dreams like leaky pipes that spill in short small throes out of me like blankets that don't cover my ankles even though I'm only five feet and three inches tall yes I take up five feet and three inches of space in this world and I try to make a blip of noise, a spark, a mark upon the stars as if five feet and three inches can make an impact upon a world with no limits but yes, I will dream despite. I will dream like a dying cigarette tossed in the water For they have made me too full And I have to drain them like an abscess before they burst Because that is what happens when you are five feet and three inches tall, You dream like an angel trying to shake her demons. -anna sluder 

There is some sort of relief in creating pain out of nothing just so it can be louder than the original and even though it kills I drag my pencil across the paper like a reluctant knife across a wrist A pirouette of pain then a bow of relief   And I form words out of nothing just so they can be louder than my thoughts braver than my blood that tries to dry across the page writing a story that thinks it's ready to be told when I know it's just a freckling of fear in a girl who wields a pen like a knife And a self-destruct button for a heart. -anna sluder

when I looked at him it was like hearing my favorite song for the first time For he made everything beautiful even our crimes. -anna sluder

What do you want me to say? That I have loved you like anarchy loves mayhem? Infatuation is a posture in a room full of dancers compared to this For this, this is a symphony, an epic poem, a rhapsody. What else do you want me to say? That words are too small for this? Because I already know this, Shakespeare knew it Even Emily Dickinson who never loved a thing in her life Knew it Don't you know it too? So why make me write about love? When I've already written too much. -anna sluder