Again...rough

I put the fire out and hoped I would find the source of all the mess
I sensed that the odor emanating from your body
was death.
I found myself crouched in anger that you got out

None of us get out alive



You find yourself in the strangest places
In liquidy gels and bouncy pills
You seek to torment and not to mend

Your brain is floating around in that idealistic bubble.
I am so glad someone shot it out.. Not floating anymore is it?

I wanted to make a tapestry of that ugly little mess.
The bone fragments would make a good necklace. I like the poetic quality of serrated edges tearing at my chest and soft neck as I sleep. It would be like placing blades to my throat or sleeping silently next to a feral wolf. The caked scars and smell of lost iron would soothe me and I could use them to pick my teeth after meals. Practical aren't I?

I think it would make a great reminder. I would even leave the blood.

I think the guts would be funny to display. I guess it would prove you've got some.........nah;Just kidding.

You never had a brave day in your life. Your sweet daddy placed you in an iron cell and you pissed and cried and let him beat on the bars until it dissipated away and you rebuilt it.

You rebuilt it so you could feel the trembling of the bars and cum with the sensation of ringing helplessness. Your body writhes at the thought of uselessness. What, you think you hid it well? Scared is what you are-all you are. Now you'll be the littlest you've ever been.
In a tiny little jar on display. I'll make sure it's translucent.
I will make sure everyone can see the flesh and blood that created such a complex drop in a bucket.

The coke eats away at all the leftovers. Birds wouldn't even touch it. They thought it was an illusion. Too bad, really.

This is rough-read at your own risk

Do you feel me?
I don't think you do
If you felt me,
really felt me
Your puny heart would break and shatter into the thousands of little splinters mine has balled into
If you felt me and the gashes from dicks and pokers and switches and knives and guns and fists and tongues.

It all runs too deep for you to feel
Especially when you can't feel me or anything for the noise of your own self-concern.

Fuck imploding so you don't have to feel the splatter of me spitting out my own heart. I won't vomit my pain into a toilet so I can flush it away and hide it. Like a miscarriage from a rape that I must have asked for because there is a hole between my legs. That every man thinks they need to fill.

I won't spare you the daggers you left in my doorway and expected me to stumble over to reach your love. I won't pull the punches and kiss your feet so you grace me with your gait.

You are unwavering in your lunacy, unfaltering in your distinguishable extinguishable existence.

You were over before you splattered into your mother's womb and ripped your way out. Crying at the injustice of your own release into this world. When They left you to cry alone they left you as it should be, alone and neglected. Exactly the position to kill a pestulance.

I want to tie up the alternate bubble you live in like a plastic bag filled with a lice infested comforter. I want you to live with no air as I have for months on end. Survive it, I dare you. So we can tie up the bag again and watch your pores seep ichor.

Over

The thrill has gone away.

I sit here tonight with a world in shambles.

I look at where my relationships have led me-at what I have thrown away. I know it was what I needed to do to get to the point I am now. My life is holding strong, but the one piece I asked God himself for so long ago in that house on Parrish Avenue is...well...it's perishing. How Ironic?

I guess I wonder how things can get so far from what they were. Disillusioned I am giving up on a dream. I gave it a fighting chance and now it's extinguished.

Love is great and I want it. I won't hurt this much for my fairy tale. Someone will give me the love I want sans the pain. One day.

I don't have anything epic to say. I am heartbroken, happy, relieved, disillusioned, tearful, grievous...I wish my mind would pick one.