5 Stories of a Girl Called Life This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

December 5, 2010
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(whata) flame
-a handheld th/fl/ing
child-friendly ;;

they have safeties for that

you know…
or so they say ;;

a th/fl/ing that sparks an ember,
with black Jacks on the side,
is brought home from work-
its future BRIGHT
and full of LIfE

to be tucked between couch cushions
unremembered in the frayed fabric of morning
while Somewhere Not Here

is laying out the cards
you have to play
Make. A. Move.
Raise. The. Stakes.


giving those eyes that scandal eyes

thinking, while

pulling down a painted thumb –

smoke pouring through painted lips,

the dealer always wins.
lighting Spirits as steadily as drawing

moths to a flame,
loosening lips and belts.
the lighter shclicking playfully
guiding the way to a few new tricks
and a predetermined tip
OR, well,


goes on and, already,

she wants to tangle that

unappreciative jerk up in the
delicate and bony

prongs of her hands.
A drink, A-nother,

A drink, A-nother.
A cigarette, A-nother,

A cigarette, A-nother.
A sleek black dress,

stained with self-doubt and
a bed that,





up and down and up and down.
S i l e n c e :

fumbling and sloshing through it

she goes,
searching shadow-draped walls,

“Someone?Anyone?God D*** it


AnsweR me!”
Shivering- because

she doesn’t feel that
it’s cold business,

it’s cold, it’s unbelievably

so / cold

without words.

with a dying dream.

and everyone else seems to know something that she doesn’t:






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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

filippo_giovanni said...
Dec. 8, 2010 at 7:54 pm

A Great Work,  I read the poem twice and your poetry provoked thought and reflection.  Nice Work,,,

Thank You…….. Phil

LexieRay905 said...
Dec. 7, 2010 at 4:54 pm

i really like the concept, but the poem itself is somewhat confusing..


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