BLOG OWNED BY BAILEY CHAMPAGNE
featured essays below, updated in real-time.
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I heard someone chew in the dark. At the movies – the one with the food – just me, them, someone else, all of us lit by a horror film. Their chewing pressed on one edge of me, like something might happen if they didn’t stop. I wished I could unhear them. I wondered what read more.
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I don’t know why I’m frightened. I know my way around here – the cardboard trees, finger painted seas, the aforementioned enlightening and storms of overdosed pleas. The early morning slurry and late evening scares. I’ve spent dawns trying to ignore fantasy and dusks painting new realities. Reassuring myself with touching toes and successful stranger read more.
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My little trinkets and toys. We have a birthday and your wedding and some babies. We share the attention we once yearned for, until it reaches overseas. Until the fat man sings about how unlucky stardust could be sand for another rich man’s feet. Can mankind be resolved of egocentric immaturity? The gift of witness read more.
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Sometimes I feel like that dog in a window, waiting to see you pass by. Jumping at the key turn, time resuming and forgoing her whining cry. My car is quiet during normal procedures, echoing the constant funeral procession of sniffling quiet. Ruminating engine and the same car. I come home to dead flowers and read more.
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I’ve been trying to write a poem like a tattoo. Ink on a pen. Underneath the skin. Except now it comes up my throat. I say words I could’ve never wrote because ink is forever and I shake stutter when I give speeches. Becoming more of a bitch lately. Young, fresh smelling leather. There’s a read more.
AUSTIN TX USA , FOR NOW
The Champagne Soapbox 