I spew all these words at you, releasing them from bonking around up in my noggin causing a ruckus.
Sacrifices
My heart
At the
Altar of
My tongue.
—-
It damns off
The absolute
Bloodbaths
Of adoration
Anxiously
Circulating
Through
My Veins.
—-
I[t] know[s]
Better.
My systems
Need
Something
To keep
Us Running.
—-
I[t] know[s]
We have
Poured
Ourselves
Entirely OUT
For men
Before;
& Ended up
Nearly dead.
My love
Hangs around
Like mold.
I Infiltrate
Your porous
Wood
Sink into
Your
Remembrains.
—-
Don’t
Mind me…
…Just evading
Lapses to
Rid your
Infrastructure
Of me;
Fortifying
Myself
—Stronger
Than ever
Inside You.
—-
I am the
Twenty-percent
That know
How to
Survive
Your vinegar.
—-
Undetected
I cunningly curb
Your interest
Til you’re
Cupping at
The seems.
—-
Curve for me.
Show me
How
Your heat
That
Grows me
Cannot
Contain
Itself there
Inside your
Surfaces.
—-
Allow me
To snake
Through
your veins
Like water;
Weaving
Through
Your textures,
Tainting Your
Would boreds,
Inking them
With life.
—-
Isn’t it
All So
Exhilarating—
—How Even
My most
Toxic
Release of
Spores
beats
The drone
Of your
Tidy
Polished
Home.
Fetishize
The face.
Face it,
I do not
Miss
Any–
-But
Yours.
—
Take off
That mask
Slowly
For me.
No need
To be Shy
Or coy,
I know
What’s under
There.
I’ve seen it
All
Before.
—
Show me
Again
How you
You.
It’s been
So long
Since
Anyone
Worth
Looking
At
Has Looked
At me
Physically,
Viscerally,
in My
Direction.
—-
Before our
Total Dark
I mourned
Our sight loss
Like
I had
My childhood,
Dog.
I knew
We
Were going,
So I
read books
In place
Of
Your face
To Supplant
Our Deterioration.
I Wrapped myself
In The Comfort
Of fiction,
Between covers
and frayed spines.
—
Shipping
Is delayed
On shared
smirks
In the
Unfor-see-me-able
Future.
—
In this
Envirusment,
We are
Flesh and
[Thus,]
Fresh Out
of
Knowing
Glances.
—
I see now,
There is no way
To Properly grieve
the Relishment
of your
Idiosyncrasies,
As we are,
Relegated
To only
A Past-time.
Love
That’s
Never been
Tasted
Is [Probably]
Still Delicious.
Meanwhile,
You can:
Pass the
Bottle
Back
And
Forth,
Maybe
Pierce the
Cork;
Even,
[light gasp]
Open it..
..For a
Little.
Enjoy your
Sweet
A-roma
Like
It’s the
Only thing
You have.
Share Your
Empty
Glasses.
Make a
Toast to
Sobriety
From each
Other;
Forever
Drinking
your a-part.
If you knew
what’s good
for ya
You’d Cover
your Eyes,
Mouth,
and Ears,
Wash
Your
Hands,
And
Stay
Six
Feet
A Part;
Cause,
baby, He’ll
rob yer
Years.
————
Incase
You were
Wondering,
“His last
‘Girlfriend’
Was like,
‘Totally crazy…’”;
“She,
‘That Bitch’
Even Tried to
Kill Him!
Parts of Him
Are still with
Her,
But luckily,
He found
You Now…”.
——-
He spits
Himself Into
your mouth,
So
Delicately.
“He couldn’t
Possibly
Be harmful,”
You’ll think
To yourself…
But, there
he goes;
Digging
In your
dermis.
————
Don’t fool
Yourself,
He won’t
Hesitate
To Swim
Round your
Respirate
Thoughtless;
setting up
Shop
– for Good.
———
You ask him,
He’ll say, “it’s
Stayin time..
..I mighty like it
Around
These Parts..
Gonna suffocate
The possibilities…
Multiple my kind
Abreast their
Spongey
Landscapes.
Better hope I
Don’t make a
Home outta you…
Cause, baby,
I’m in it for
The Long U-Haul.”
—————————
I was
And
I wasn’t,
Then.
I Lied deep
Inside me;
Crawl
Creep and
Cry free.
I die to
Remind me.
—
I lived
All
The life
I had,
And
This
Is the
Afterlife;
The laughter life,
The-He after lIfe
The aft her life
Thee apter life,
For me.
mistaking
fiber glass
insulation for
cotton candy;
tore up
my insides,
but i
developed
a taste.
If love
is just
one
good night
in decades
of undesirable
misery,
staying for
the kid,
and a break-up
so cumbersome
to sort through
-you
just don’t;
[ ].
was the name.
the year, 2012.
“if they fuck
that stab hole
I’m gonna lose it,”
he breathed out
redundantly with
strained pants.
—
2017
–
another
mutual friend
run-in.
she sits down
at the four-seater
table with
tonights bunch.
naturally,
he sits in
the chair
next to her.
she sips
her whiskey,
balancing
herself.
“have you all
seen that new
occult crime
show on netflix?”
she opens to
the group,
knowing he
likely has.
“they had this
one episode
about this
group of
sick fucks
called the
‘chicago rippers’..”
glancing at him
to judge his
expression
she went on,
“..they had
this fascination,
if you could
call it that,
with breasts.
they’d kidnap
women of the night,
stab holes
in the side of
their breasts
and fuck the
fresh stabwound..”
she took
another sip
of her drink,
“..there’s
a bunch of
sick fucks in
this world,
wouldn’t
you agree?”
he said nothing.
—
we
traded
our stories
of addiction
and abuse
like
pokemon cards;
fondly,
comparing
their worth
to us
and strength
of attack.
“that one
he
was
-always
my favorite”
“that one,
he trained
-me
the most.”
—
Later
