I Laugh.

I laugh

But it isn’t all that funny

but for your painted smug

which if I wiped

would stain my hand

with pretty pernicious pigment and

I would take it home and touch my walls with it

the colours bleeding one by one

dyed and wry, vibrantly crying;

the wallpapers would run with all the hues unknown

whatever’s left in the lines of my palm

the caves of my knuckle

I would wipe on my floors while I lay there sighing

But I don’t.

I laugh once more;

The house untainted

Walls still neatly painted

Hardwood untouched

I laugh even when it is not funny.

---

-samjam

This poem seemed to be a favourite of few of my friends, so here it is ;) One of the things I had in mind when I wrote this was The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins. And boy oh boy, is that one hell of a story. I will probably review it soon; so, you can watch out for that by subscribing (how smooth) ;) toodles!