Freeform and Off the Cuff

Sometimes,

I crave just

The emptiness.

I think

About that wooden floor

Beneath my platform heels

Feet spinning below me,

And my head spinning

Above me

And all the edges are hazy.

 

The burgundy velvet curtain
Tilts back and reveals…

All that glitters,

Really is golden

In my fucked up haze

And drunken eyes

In the old yellow lights

Of the dark and dirty

Little strip bar.

My dark and dirty little secrets

On display

For the world to see.

Just like the track marks

Covering my body

 

If you look really hard

In even the dark lights

Of the club,

You can see hints

Of the bruises and the scars.

But, soon you forget about all that

And just like me,

You are enveloped in this world

It is all an allusion.

 

Sweet, sweet smile,

And a sexy little body

A warm soul right next to you.

A beacon in the darkness.

But I really

Don’t wanna see the light.

 

Even the sound of the old jukebox

Seems loud

And enveloping my entire soul

With the sound of the guitar.

Just like it always has,

The sound of the guitar

Takes me

Away.

The ringing in my ears,

The smoky haze of a cloudy club.

And I am lost within

The depths of the sound.

I close my eyes

Now, as I did then

Tilting my head back

And feeling only rhythm…

 

And emptiness.

 

Emptiness.

Radiates from me

And we are all drawn inside.

Just like the tip

Of my needle

Just like the sound

Of the music

And the cheap speakers

Rocking my soul.

 

I look back onto

That little stage.

A wooden structure

Long since washed away by water.

The old stage,

So comforting

Under my heels

While I held tight

To that dirty pole,

Balancing precariously

On end.

And that guitar rips

Once more…

 

Bringing me back to here.

And I realize

That girl on stage,

Has also been washed away,

And drown with the floodwaters

That swell still beneath my soul.

Tears jump forward…

 

And just like always,

I stuff them back down.

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About elizaplayer

I am a rock and roll wild child, who spent too many years living the party lifestyle before the winds and rains of Hurricane Katrina began to wash away all the madness, nearly drowning me in the flood waters. I stayed behind in New Orleans for thirteen dark days, floundering around with the pains of addiction and withdrawal. Five years later, I managed to come out clean on the other side, and now it is time to get back to my roots. I am a writer. I have always been a writer. This is the story of a writer, struggling to make it in the real world. I studied Mass Media Communication with a minor in Journalism. I write anything and everything. This is a sample of my work, and a slice of my mind.
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One Response to Freeform and Off the Cuff

  1. Lisa says:

    This was very deep. I love it. I feel your pain here.

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