THREE POEMS by KRISTIE SHOEMAKER

mount st. helens

 

has your heart ever beat so hard
and with such purpose
as if either begging for life or trying to end it
that it rattles the inside of your rib cage
and then sends small shock waves through layers of skin and bone and flesh and space
to make your mattress rumble
enough to shake the floor boards holding up your precious home
both body and not
enough to awaken the worms and skeletons deep in the dirt
eternal slumber has no place during a panic attack
that makes itself so strong through word of mouth from skeleton jaw to layer of rock
that a small rattle in your rib cage results in the biggest earthquake known to man
but not plant and animal because we are selfish and assume nothing has happened before our eyes were here to witness
the earth cracks open and swallows you whole and the elderly couple across the street sleep through the whole thing
you try to scream and cry and desperately seek comfort
it’s okay to feel afraid of yourself and the world
it’s okay to need help
so long as you stay as quiet as possible

 

 

something about the song ‘ironic’

 

i used to live for the worrisome stretches of time where i refused to leave my bed or interact with anyone outside of technology and downloadable feelings.
my world has been flipped upside down, both literal and not. i’ve always wanted to be a tree so i crashed into one, i should be more careful of what fills my (sub)conscious dreams.

now all i can do for six weeks is lay in bed,
flat on my back in necessity of help for basic tasks and constant validation that things will be okay. bed doesn’t feel good anymore.
this pillowy cloud i used to wish consumed me is now gnawing it’s teeth against my metal bones and i can’t wait for it to spit me out.

 

 

2016

 

jan 22 2016
i don’t want to have to feel destroyed to feel creative

feb 17 2016
put my hair up with a chip clip as an indicator of my mental health

feb 19 2016
if i ever have a child their first words will be: ‘this world is bullshit – fiona apple, 1997’

mar 12 2016
the moon doesn’t pose for photographs bc she is shy, be gentle and kind

mar 20 2016
my first kiss tasted like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and pure hatred of boys

april 5 2016
being in love is great just like existential dread and ur parents ignoring ur cries for help its all so great

april 14 2016
chopped four inches of my hair off with meat scissors last night and didn’t feel a thing

may 4 2016
hallucinated for ten seconds that daisies were growing from every pore on my body and now i’m just covered in skin life isn’t fair

may 21 2016
chase ur birth control with pinot grigio in public

jun 6 2016
i used to write poems but now all i’m capable of writing is a suicide note

jun 14 2016
i want to befriend a bug and apologize for sometimes being afraid of them, i want to tell everyone i love them and that i’m trying

jul 4 2016
tried to impress someone by saying i was a published poet but now i’m in a room alone chugging wine

jul 10 2016

 

 

 

 

kristie shoemaker is a twenty-five year old scorpio who thinks plants are cool. she just released her first poetry pamphlet plants will make her dance (varsity goth press, 2017) and her debut collection do graves get wifi is due out later this year (ghost city press, 2017). you can read her ongoing breakdown @1ittlepeach