Turn Signal Poem by Shalyn Stachmus

Trapped inside these big, bland walls,
Dying to break out.
Conflicted, desolate, afraid.
Trying to reach out.
Complaining to my lonely friend
About that same damn spider on the ceiling,
Crawling through my mind.

Like sitting on a porch swing.
Swinging, squeaking.
Back, back, and forth.
Does it make you sick?
Does it make you want to cry?
Jesus was a sinner, and that's the reason why:
I wear my favorite friend by day,
And a seatbelt late at night.

Vomited hate and lust in my room.
Now we can talk.
Such a sick salamander
In a stupid, porcelain frame.
But in these stark walls,
Blatant Satan tells me of his travesty,
The only pretense that has ever glowed.

Like falling in a hole.
Falling, screaming.
Down, down, and gone.
It makes me sick.
It makes me want to cry.
Jesus was a sinner and that's the reason why:
I wear my lonely friend by day,
And a seatbelt late at night.