Author Archives: willowhutton

Where is Your Pair of Scissors?

Like a wind that keeps your hair in front of your face

A fly that just won’t leave you be

You can’t escape it

The feeling, this feeling

Like my brain is tangled

All the strands weaving around; no end in sight

To finding the way out of the knots

Like an impossible scrambled word puzzle

It’s taking hours

And by hours, I mean days

One string untangles; a new knot appears

I want my mind in perfect organzation

So neat, so neat!

No sleep when all the knots do is pull

Pull at each other

What if it just becomes one knotted ball

Oh, the fear, the fear of insanity

One knotted ball that you can never get loose

Stuck in your mind with not a single way out

They say that the light will come again

But what exactly will the light do; it can’t untangle the knots

Scissors, a tool I desperately need.

Free my mind from the insanity that keeps multiplying

Still multiplying.

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But The Lion is Distraught

Better cut the prescription drugs

A few days past yesterday

You’re getting wacky again, Betty

Tone it down a notch, Betty

You’re throwing every stone into the river, Betty

Turning realizations into much worse twists

That’s the problem, Betty

Taking your realizations too far once again

Remember where that has gotten you, time and time again?

It took you to the principal’s office

It got you hit; a black eye

Entire mornings stuck in the snow

Don’t twist it

Just set it politely on the mantle, Betty

View it for a while; don’t do even as much as touch it

Take it in, but don’t change its color

Don’t get wacky, Betty

Step back; fly away for a few days

Or you’ll push the last few of your stones into the lonely river, Betty

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Escaping the Mazes

Mazes upon mazes of glass mirrors

Wrapped inside a house of cards

Finding yourself amidst the fog and the confusion

Ever so gently as to not sweep the entire masterpiece away

All that you have…away

Judge wisely, dear girl

The King could knock down more than just the masterpiece

Brutally, brutally

Think for a spell

And your entire world has gone to hell

To get a smile out of your misery; they laugh, they laugh

One reflection smiles back confidently

While another shakes its head; avoiding your gaze

Is it right? Was it right?

Never-ending twists, unforgettable turns

Will we ever find the way, away

Or such is life?

Constant mazes

Constant mirrors

In a not-so-constant house of cards

Will we ever find the escape?

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Nobody Ever Told Her It’s the Wrong Way

As it rolls off your tongue and passes behind their ears
You start to ponder the interpretation beyond all of their minds
What did your words sound like inside another’s brain, through another’s airwaves?
Indifference.
Over-analyzation.
Jealousy.
Manipulation.
Joy.
You can’t ever quite tell.
If they have the correct grasp or are they holding onto Never-never land?
The truth stands; it was said.
Did the message, tucked away in a bottle
Make it soundly?
Without the ink running or the paper ripped and faded?
Was the letter received
The right way?

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Through the Wind, You Crossed the Line

You burned the edges of their willow trees;
The ones that elegantly line the property of the Queen.
You singed the 22nd pages of all of the books in their library.
How would you feel if the worlds were turned?
Would you scream?
Would you cry?
Would you smile because deep down, around the corner, down the second-to-last street in your sinister mind, you just don’t care?
Did they set a torch to all of the bordering nerves of your emotions;
Of your solitary vision?
Did you water it down just in time?
Or did they catch the bitter stench right before you made a mockery of the King?
It doesn’t really matter, does it?
The willow trees, the books, the nerves;
They may have suffered;
They may have been ignited for a minute or two.
But they’re in the clear.
It may have cut to the bone
But they’re still here.
And they’re not alone.
The branches still blow in the wind.
They are admired.
The words still stick to the mind.
They are admired.
The nerves can still feel.
You are admired.

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The Weather of the Brain

There was a light in the distance; an off-shade of ruby.

Before I could stop it, the blast shocked me.

And it was as if the child’s spirit in me was crying and screaming in the same moment.

However, I was filled with neither sorrow nor anger.

I was still standing there with a glow on my face.

Despite what took place at a crossroads that night.

You never thought to take a glimpse at that crystal ball.

But it flourished before Glenda could ever catch the clue.

You escaped Oz before it turned on you; before they had a chance to send you home.

No, I say, I’m staying right here.

I like the flying monkeys and the golden road that led me to fear and courage

All mixed into the same storm.

No fancy shoes for her.

No, I say, I’m staying right here.

Stuck in this sun-filled, blue-skied image.

The light, an off-shade of ruby, was the unknown beacon;

The unknown beacon to the most pleasant of daydreams.

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Choirs Smoking Cigars

You almost lit my cigar.

But you took your fire in other directions.

Not looking back, not even a glance.

But I smiled because I knew it was just a joke.

At least, in my mind, it was the greatest hilarity known to exist.

We can see right through your body of glass, friend.

So don’t try running; you just may shatter.

Try gleaming.

See how far that gets you this time.

Just beyond San Francisco, staring up at that Golden bridge.

You think the waters are cold now?

Wait until you make it to Honshu.

You’ll want to light my cigar.

Where did you take your fire to?

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