The Art of Forgetting

Sometimes I forget where I am, where we are

Like Alice, in my body, I feel much too bizarre

I swear and I argue and I use love as a crutch

I'm shallow and hollow and I drink way too much

Scrape the surface of the thin icy shell

Teeth chatter a little as your hands start to swell

Maybe you'll see me, just maybe you might

Catch a mere glimpse of me in the sunlight

You might warm me up, you might melt me down

But I'm much too terrified to witness you drown

So I clog up my arteries with all the pain

And I pretend that I'm foolish and vain

It's so much easier to pretend to be free

Much better to be... a girl who's not me

I take three steps forward, and then four steps back

Moving so slowly through the tunnels so black

Moving like molasses through a world so obscure

Hating myself and then finding a cure

Loving myself and then biting my tail

It goes in circles to no avail

Sometimes I forget where I am, where we are

All I know is I want to go far

Far away from the world so bizarre

Back to the misty gloom of the bar

Image source: https://www.pinterest.ca/Daisybama1/art/?lp=true

Comments

Miles Away

I refuse to sell my heart, not for twenty-five cents The auction is closed, ladies and gents I’ve already sold my eyes, when they caught sight of the streets So now everyone can see the beauty of my Italian retreat I sold my tongue for gelato, feeling so young Letting the wild berries dance around on my tongue I sold my feet when I traveled to see our Holy Mother in gold Like a saint on a mission, I’ll walk until I get old I sold my ears when I heard beautiful Aida open her lips Echoing through the theatre in which the ancients used to sit But I won’t sell my heart, it is still free For my heart belongs to God and not really to me My heart aches for home, too many miles away Yet for now I am here and I will live for today Yes, I sold my eyes to Italy; it’s all I can see How I wish you were here seeing these treasures with me I’ll try to buy back my sight, taste, and ears too So that I’ll be able to share these memories with you

We Pretend

We pretend that we'll live forever That tomorrow will bring something better We pretend we're not made of stars As we roam the streets and bars We pretend we'll never die That our kids won't ever cry Over the loss that is our end Every student, teacher, friend Everyone we've ever known Has a constellation they call home When the moon comes out at night I look to them to see the light To all those who did pretend That their story would never end But on some nights, breezy and clear I see the stars and they feel near I can grasp one and hold it in my hand As it takes me to another land We pretend this earth is all there is to see Yet the stars and crickets have spoken to me We pretend we'll never die Because we truly won't To someone's eye

Not Your Typical New Year's Resolutions

2016 is a big year for me and for most friends my age. 2016 means I'll transform from "Olga Taratuta, High School Graduate" to "Olga Taratuta, B.A." 2016 holds my future in its sweaty palms. The words "job," "money," "graduate school," and "scholarships" seem to have dominated my pool of vocabulary. 2016 is where I become a real adult, not the OSAP mooching fraud that I am now. But adulthood is a scam. It is a fable told by society to keep the economy in check. Adults are seduced by money. We become promiscuous, lurking the streets to make a buck. My original goals for 2016 were to: A) Get into graduate school B) Get a job C) Get an apartment D) Save, save, save! Then I realized that all those goals are money-driven to some degree. They are but cookie cutter resolutions, such as "exercise more" or "lose 5 pounds." I will not make money by aiming to make money. I have realized this ...

Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

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