The Floorboards

by Suzanna Derewicz

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This is a demo track.


Youth spills to the floor
And it’s starting to taste stale now.
Pills and stills of last week’s kill

Like someone’s waged a war
A remount
Again, and again, eight times of ten
Holding her up is a goddamn chore.

And when she walks she’s heavy
Dragging her colossal body
Bags of bones, and fingernails, uneven hips, and thumbs to phone.

She starts a riot every night,
Up the stairs - botched up flight.

Her fever shoots down through her toes and it doesn't let us sleep.

We push ourselves up to meet her
Feet, to meet her
Heel to baby toe,
But they are calloused, tired, beat –
How badly? She’d refuse to know.

And she hurls her lipstick at us
Shoves shirts into corners
Pieces of paper, receipt books, post notes, chargers, backpacks, i.ds, headphones.

And the shirts are tainted blue.
You see, she falls in love too much.
We’ve told her that before

And, well, her smile don’t budge
But even we can feel it when she rolls to the farthest edge of her bed to be as small as she possibly can.

You can’t possibly understand
The pressure.

And songs that play by the desk lamp light
To muffle out the sound of her trying
Ben Howard
Ani DiFrano
Kate Bush


And we can’t sleep.
We can’t -


released December 15, 2014
Written by: Suzanna Derewicz
Performed by: Suzanna Derewicz
Music Composition by: Pablo Martín
Arrangement by: Pablo Martín
Voice Recorded by: Daniel Bagg



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Suzanna Derewicz Toronto, Ontario

Suzanna Derewicz is a Poet, Playwright and Performer based in Toronto.

Profile Art by: Tara Clews.

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