8 March 2020

Why does it feel all over?

Like love gets taken away

Left over

Scraping an empty bowl

I can't eat you

That's not how it works

But why do I feel starved?

Cause I don't feed myself outside

Of the words you hand me

So warm I want nothing else

 

What love is to her

All I want

is to know how to love

not love

where skin and skin

rupture into one

gluing a moment

of sticky euphoria 

to our backs

holding our hands together

to prove it was more

than a pill popping rush

I want love 

I want to feel seen

I want to stop faking

a congenial girlish smile

I want to be suffocating under your issues NO MORE

I want to stop filling up my heart gaps

with Him

I want to stop fearing loneliness

more than enjoying your company

But I have a girl in my chest

who tugs at muscled men

with hearts who need holding

who require her prowling body

to press them together

I love being alone, but I hate being at home with Her

She has a habit

of forcing followers

dark dependents

to complete her circle of self loathing

You see, to her, love is a check list

goals

a binary of inertia and chaos

To her it isn’t love unless it’s on fire

Her motto:

A cruel man is always worth changing

because you will have made meaning together

Please give me meaning

Devote your selves, each one, to Him

And kill the non believers

Heritage

Flesh pops

berry red

woozy

The stink of it

sticking to my fingers

sticky

my white flesh drips

it's scummy

coating

only scraping at

the spore holes

the golden resin

that clumps in 

black

Black?

not black at all

but filthy beige.

a waxy clay to

Fashion from my

dead skin cells

a gleaming

greasy

monument

to myself.

29 September 2019

Addicted

You're not addicted

You just use it everyday

You're not addicted 

You just tell the pipe your problems

Your not addicted 

Your minds just never quiet without it

You're not addicted 

But it unwinds your muscles when you sleep

You're not addicted

But you scraped your mothers money together

To get it for two years

You're not addicted

But it eats your stress your cancer your regret

You're not addicted 

Not physically

But you itch and ache and whine

Throw bottles kick doors

Throw your physicality around

When it's gone

You're not addicted

I am

To helping you

Slamming my body against a boulder up a mountain

I'm addicted to the pain of loving you

Saving him

he bends

sinks deep into a

womb pose

like a kitten

claws tucked to chest

he believes himself agile

in this state

tense waiting

curled over my shoulder

his sliding hands

I breathe

he breathes

I cut him at the knees

but only in my mind

(cold blades wield bloody

at my white dainty flesh)

I stamp at the white butterflies

that desperate flee

his radioactive glow

let them die with me

I pin them to my white walls

I paint portraits of their corpses

all while he eats like

digs like a mad dog

foaming my mouth

gurgling and spitting

at my insides

When will my last

drink of water be?

25 September 2018

It was 2016, I was 17

I lay outspread

  like Mary on the cross

  gripping you to me

writhing

crying

forgetting it all again

till the next moment I feel

Something close to real

again.

crying

running

I’ll get

out before

anyone can stop me

leave this earth

by dissolving into

  the dirt

  decomposing

like a dead tree’s

poem to god

  It was 2016

near the end

when I screamed

for you to leave

then wept

when you

were gone.