Startings with Peas and Ham

Here is another poem I've been starting (and may never be ending). It's been really difficult for me to write lately, which sucks of course when I have not one, but two creative writing classes. I need inspiration to start falling from the sky the way this nasty frozen ice rain has. I wish there was a direct connection between my brain and laptop, that way I could just spew this crud out in the shower or the car, that good crud that rushes out at the least opportune times. Or that moment as you're falling asleep and all this awesome stuff (that may actually be total bullshit failure in the light of day) floats into you head but you've already turned off the lights and told your body to fade into the weight of sleep. Too many moments like that for me.

Also, ate some great pea soup today.

My ribs ache,

their marrow sucked and savored by

the invisible monsters under my bed

My back aches,

the spine’s ridges played with

hammers and nails from Brother’s rusted toolbox

My legs ache,

the femurs shattered and laid

out like seeds along Mother’s blood poppies

My mind aches,

its thoughts twisted and perverted from

the whispers Father left along the stained pillows

I ache, I ache

It had great hunks of ham in it; ham with that tender fat run through that gives this bad-for-you-but-totally-worth-the-poison flavour.