The ghastly sound of the dishwasher
As it kicks into its automatic mode
What genius thought it up, I wonder
A cat jumps into my bed with me
Not mine, however, I don't understand
I can't control its actions like I can mine
The washer switches to the next cycle
Maybe rinse, for that is what happens
To every dream I have ever held
Words echo in my mind
Like a broken recorder that needs a kick
They're a taunting, schizophrenic beast
"You'll only be a fry girl at McDonalds"
I hate McDonald's fries
Pieces of my childhood lay scattered about
My mind is kept in this 12x9 foot room
Deep breaths come from the bed above
I know my sister is in her sleep cycle
Maybe in REM, having some wild dream
About a fantasy that will never come true
Poor girl
Lies lurk in every movement I make
The biggest is my breathing
Come to think of it, I don't like fries at all
I was named after a ship, I think it sank
Who cares if I'm a lazy bum
With this blade, I could end it all
I am the master of my destiny now
I don't even have to see sixteen
Whose business is my life but my own
All you're worried about is family disgrace
The washer has finished its cycle
But how clean, really, are the dishes
You can erase away the dirt
But you will never change the past

i like that...it's different

awesome job!! I love your poems!!! You should get published and I can be your biggest fan and get free tickets to poetry readings and stuff!!!

hahahahahaha... poetry.com tried to publish me, but I told them no... what's the use of getting published if you're not going to get paid for it, right?