I spew all these words at you, releasing them from bonking around up in my noggin causing a ruckus.
When you
Aren’t
Allowed
To say
Anything.
Step One:
Fucking don’t.
Do not
do
The saying.
I swear
toFucking
God,
If you
do
So
Help
Me.
Step two:
Close
Your lips.
Make them
Two too taut
[but secretly]
Tasty
Turnips.
So hard
And dry
No one
Wants
To put them
Anywhere
near
Their mouth.
Step Three:
All else fails,
Bite your
Lips off
Entirely.
Whatever
You do,
Do not
Begin
The process
In
front Of
anyone;
For fear,
They could
Get
the Wrong
idea.
My mother
is dying.
so I
bite off
my lips
for not
speaking,
my fingers
bloody
for not
reaching out
more;
drink
the organs
she gave me
stripped
and fatty.
maybe
this time
they will
heal new
and
those skins
Will know
what to do(?)
I left
the teapot
on
not hearing
it whistle
long enough
to burn it
again.
—
by the time
i remembered
i had to
pry its
hot metal
bottom
from sautered
spiral prison.
hope it
will
forgive me
[salvage
charless tasting
oatmeal water]
For forgetting
about it
while it
killed itself
on burner.
—
lying
in bed
i hear it
whistling
placebo;
[we could
have ruined
it this time]
A guilt
calloused
melody
of sorrow.
Before
you get
ahead of
yourself,
it isnt
unusual
for me
to tie
my insides
in knots
preparing
for a
chase.
Do not
mistake
my lack
of ease
over
-you
as
over-inflated
self-grandeur.
My body
has
-always
reacted to
interacting
with it’s
outside world
like the
impending
attack of
a lion.
—
Symptom
Weathermaker,
everything
is dry today.
the calm
before
tomorrow’s
storm.
this day
as useless
as watching
stagnant water
feels.
—
he’s got
these women
he weaves
in and out
like
shift work.
never
touching,
always
brushing forces
Uncommunicably;
filling
the gaps
his
miserable
lonliness
awake
he can’t
bare
to face.
son of god,
trapped
on that
fabricated
temple
of entertainment,
never wanting
to be
bothered
on
your time.
says
it’s easier
to
fall asleep
with a
body
nearby,
be it
special
or
unimpressive.
spits out
promises
never
fulfilled
More than
A distributor
does product.
doesn’t ever
fold up
pages
or
face
a mess,
except
the bottles
someone
else
must’ve left
strewn
on
every
surface.
he’s
in control
afterall,
natural born
cult leader,
with pride.
no need for
the
big
picture
with his
knackful
perception,
despite a
blindness
to his own
presentation.
“subconscious
leaking
out
their nose,”
somebody get this man a medal!
full of
compazine
and lexapro
would you
please?
keep talking
with a
tactfully forged
confidence
and you’re
always right,
otherwise
anyone else
could get a
second
opinion.
—
