Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

"Lion in Antarctica"

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
The rain in December…
felt like teardrops of acid, creeping down my back
It was the feel of a thousand tarantulas, crawling down my spine
down the isle of my arms
down the corridors of my legs, biting me to near death
The Grimm with its fleshless, skinless skeletal hands
covered my mouth, before I screamed

The snow in June…
felt like a kaleidoscope of needles, penetrating my melanin
‘til I bled the roses of Eden
It made me numb, as a newborn, being baptized by a nun
I refused to cry
It was the feel of a thousand desert scorpions
laying their eggs
eating me from the outside in

High school has made me feel like…
a snowman in Haiti
ice in the hands of Hades
my own heart, when people say they hate me
I have been slowly melting for the last three years
It’s made me lost as a lion in Antarctica
once warm-hearted, but now my soul is concealed away
in Pandora’s Box

I am a lion in Antarctica
My once beastful heart is a growing glacier of gluttonous sins
My intestines is a cold-blooded King Cobra
biting away at my rabbit fur soft stomach
It makes me nauseous
It makes me vomit a beautiful heap of memories
into the toilet of the Pacific Sea

In that heap…
I see my stepfather, flexing the Noah’s Ark upon his face
Joshua, walking out the eighth grade class for the last time
Both now dead, but at times their fists bust through their coffins
in my mind
I know…I’ll be…with them…one day

There are the raindrops on my mom’s face, had flowed
down from the sky of her eyes
She was crying because bullets made an entrance
through our windows…and slept in our walls, one night
It was there in a 12th Street house

Sometimes I feel like the deaths in Edgar Allen Poe’s
‘Sleepy Hollow’…and the sympathetic lyrics in
Marshall Mather’s ‘Relapse’, written into one chronicle
Its title being my full name, Kavon Cortez Jones
Only difference is…
No Vicodin and Xanax pills
No ‘Headless Knight’
unless the moon is decapitated from its invisible stem

No damsel to pattern my fingers with
No love songs, just crush poems, about girls I liked,
but they didn’t want me to be the beholder of their hearts
nothing…
just me
a poet
a lion…lost…in Antarctica-



Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback