Hide and Seek 2, Visual Poetry

By Kari Houghton|March 11, 2018Student Writing|

Hide and Seek 2

Sometimes, I’d like to be found.

I’d like to be the silver-foiled prize at the bottom of the cereal box

or the word that’s on the tip of your tongue

but you can only just remember the first letter

On these days,

I’d like to be the smoke that burns

deeply, in someone’s lungs

Some days

I’d like to be the last thought before a dream

 

The times in which my edges are fuzzy, blurry

a defective, distracted hologram

a dimly backlit x-ray masquerading as strength

a cheap facade that melts at a gentle touch

on these days, I am a sleepwalking ghost

haunting hollow bones dripping syrupy sadness

a Halloween gore idol projected on a cardboard cemetery

a temporary installment in the lives I’ve come to love

ready to be dismantled and boxed until I’m needed again

as if I disappear with the changing of the seasons

or trends, or desires,

and I almost wish I did

sometimes

 

If depression could be scrubbed from the skin

I’d scour myself in boiling water

let the sickness slough off of me

I’d peel the skin from my face

I don’t care about the pain

It can’t be worse than how I feel every goddamn day

when the sun greeting the sky feels like a list of my failures

a reminder of every scrapped suicide note since I was twelve

because none of them were good enough,

and the brick halo of numbness cracks and blisters

and I am once again blaming my reddened eyes and tissue mountains

on all the weed I haven’t been smoking, all of the allergies I don’t have

nevermind the tear-soaked sheets, please

I’d rather not be seen like this

 

So this is where I come when I don’t want anyone to find me

I wrap myself in twinkling strands of purple light

pretending, if just for a moment

that the electric current of mania pulsates through my veins

I feel the vibrations of music that exists only as periphery colour

Hidden beneath years of soft feathered blankets

to which I stick glow in the dark stars

and it doesn’t work, But it does

because I am now a fucking space god

my own private constellation pulsing heart

In this tiny universe

I am both the best

and the worst

thing to have happened

 

-Kari Houghton

Hide and Seek 2

 

Sometimes, I’d like to be found.

I’d like to be the silver-foiled prize at the bottom of the cereal box

or the word that’s on the tip of your tongue

but you can only just remember the first letter

On these days,

I’d like to be the smoke that burns

deeply, in someone’s lungs

Some days

I’d like to be the last thought before a dream

 

The times in which my edges are fuzzy, blurry

a defective, distracted hologram

a dimly backlit x-ray masquerading as strength

a cheap facade that melts at a gentle touch

on these days, I am a sleepwalking ghost

haunting hollow bones dripping syrupy sadness

a Halloween gore idol projected on a cardboard cemetery

a temporary installment in the lives I’ve come to love

ready to be dismantled and boxed until I’m needed again

as if I disappear with the changing of the seasons

or trends, or desires,

and I almost wish I did

sometimes

 

If depression could be scrubbed from the skin

I’d scour myself in boiling water

let the sickness slough off of me

I’d peel the skin from my face

I don’t care about the pain

It can’t be worse than how I feel every goddamn day

when the sun greeting the sky feels like a list of my failures

a reminder of every scrapped suicide note since I was twelve

because none of them were good enough,

and the brick halo of numbness cracks and blisters

and I am once again blaming my reddened eyes and tissue mountains

on all the weed I haven’t been smoking, all of the allergies I don’t have

nevermind the tear-soaked sheets, please

I’d rather not be seen like this

 

So this is where I come when I don’t want anyone to find me

I wrap myself in twinkling strands of purple light

pretending, if just for a moment

that the electric current of mania pulsates through my veins

I feel the vibrations of music that exists only as periphery colour

Hidden beneath years of soft feathered blankets

to which I stick glow in the dark stars

and it doesn’t work, But it does

because I am now a fucking space god

my own private constellation pulsing heart

In this tiny universe

I am both the best

and the worst

thing to have happened

 

-Kari Houghton

 

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