Chloe Meakin


Teenage Whore - Poem by Chloe Meakin

These are the sounds of my home town.
Thirty different kinds of footsteps.

This is the history of my home town.
Written in a diary in a dirty caravan.

These are the people.
Windowpanes squeaking under stroking fingertips.

Everyone meets themselves dead.
A sexual corpse, abandoned.
Two teeth prominent in a desiccated head.

You can fascinate yourself.
You are already dying.
You are already an adulteress.
You have already been here, making
thirty different kinds of footsteps,
mouth wide open like a hole.

I have the face of my home town.
Covered by a cage, with holes and holes beneath.
My wanton limbs folded double in a cupboard, hidden.
A slut and a criminal both.

It’s not so bad,
it’s what’s written on the cupboard walls.


Comments about Teenage Whore by Chloe Meakin

  • (6/16/2007 6:48:00 AM)


    EMOTIONS ARE DESTRUCTIVE, DARK, ALL CONSUMING AND DISTURBING; YOU UNDERSTAND THIS BETTER THAN ANYONE. DON'T BE ASHAMED OF THIS, IF WE DENY OUR EMOTIONS WE DENY OUR SOUL ITS FREEDOM.
    YOU HAVE A POWERFUL WAY WITH WORDS. DON'T FEEL GUILTY FOR BEING HUMAN!

    BEST WISHES X
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Poem Submitted: Sunday, June 12, 2005



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