Monday, 28 January 2008

Buckets

My room flooded.

My carpets got soaked.

I hung my room out to dry.

Never has water been so uninvited, yet so present.

Never has there been more.

I hung myself out to dry.

I cried buckets...

I miss it

To watch the meniscus unsheathe

The grandeur of it



why...



(found out that i'm not entirely a sociopath either... my emotions are unfeigned; at times. For what do you do when you find out that you're 100% incapable of emotions. to find out you're less than animal. what.)

-Damp captain

6 comments:

paisley said...

very nice.. this is my first time here.. i perused a few other pieces of your work,, and i think i will mark you in my reader.. you seem to have a melancholy opaque to your words...as do i... very nice indeed......

Betta said...

This is a nice one Ben. x.

Anonymous said...

i agree. been a long time since you posted your last poem. keep it coming

writerwoman said...

The lonliness in this poem is haunting.

Ben Samin said...

hahah, well writerwoman, haunting IS a lonely job.

sharon - a priase from you is a millon dollars

paisely - your stuff is much more sophisticated than mine, so i deem it incomparable. which make's YOUR praise worth a million bucks too.


now i've got two million bucks. i'm buying a yacht. : )

Catalina said...

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