do you know what a bombdoes to a body?an embalmer tells methey do what they canwith the parts they getbut sometimes it just isn’t enoughI’ve been carrying your bodyaround for far too longparts of you are falling into dinner conversations, drying upthe laughterwhen they remember how they have forgotten other presses are state-of-the-artthe men at their helm fearlessfor they rarely ...
some peoplebite the hand that feedsyou poured poison into mineheld it to my mouththen mauled me to bitsshredding every part that bleedsshedding every last decencyadding insult to injuryyou then came aroundwith balm that only burnsyou cannot helpwhat you are
go, my love.search forwhat you think you want -someone who loves you like I doknow you will succeed.it is no fool's errand -each day I love you less,each day you move closer to your goalthat place where old and new cross.when I am almost at the endscraping the barrel for the dregs of this love, you will find the love you seek - someone who loves you like I do.the unloving begins now -go, my love.
let me livein those secondsbetween awakeningand awareness when I don't remember what I have lostbefore the ache beginsand I feel like the targetat the gathering of archersbefore it feels likeall the knife throwersare practicing on melet me livein that placebetween sleepand awaketell myselfwe are still ours
on some days I am brought to my kneeson the white tiles by this black griefblack light spilling on the floorit slams in like a freight trainswept off-track by a tsunamiI stand in its path, eager, willingit breaks my bones brutallymeat on the butcher's blockI surrender to the knife, kneelingit shreds me apart slowlypaper boat in a stormI cannot swim ...
slowly becoming an accidentI hold myselfin my handsslice into mesweet, sharpeach nightlet the dark inand taste it in my veinsmemory a blade shredding me
the last time I lost youI found myself feverishly saving stories of how many people died that day and howI would flip through themeyes burninghands tremblingGREEDYtasting them with relishseething envyreciting their nameslusting after their deathsalmost hating themfor escapingstruck by lightning?so many! so lucky!electrocuted?how sudden, how kind!road accident?how ordinary! I'll take it!insides turned into soup by fluoride ion?a slow death, this,always ...
tea mixed with regretspent bullets in the dustknives sliding across the tongueblood on metalthe scent of you in the morningsafter you've spent yourself on someone elsenothingnessan emptiness too vast to fillexcept with every last drop of your bloodscreaming with no sounda steady drowningslowly and then all at oncecatching firethe cold ashes of everyone you've ever lovedperfume sprayed on the inside of your wrista dead body ...
sometimes I ordera fat mug of steaming coffeejust to hold something warmthen I picture your heartpulsating in my palmshot blood spilling into cold airthe fire it kindleskeeps me warm for dayslet the coffee go cold
when the men leave the women try to heal each otherbut violence is never far awayat midnight the tree outside my windowcomes alive with firefliesand then the batseat them
you would recoil in horrorat the mere thought of crushing a cockroachyou would not even kill an ant, nothen youstabbed me repeatedlyuntil I had to hold my insides inwith my hands and fightfor air my body remembers being your punching bagyour mattressyour safe spaceyour wellthe place from which you would fill yourself -and pour it all out on someone else.
whenever someone sets out to break me,their intentions so transparent,I look to youan army of beggars, amateurs,tongues tripping on stock phrases"you’re so beautiful";"I want you now"; "I love you"it takes a halfwit to fall for it,this parade of hands reaching outto take, take, take!hungry mouths spilling out so much flattery, it stinks in the streetssaccharine sweetthen, unfailingly, the parade of accusationsweak men forever shouting'WHORE'they ...
reel it all back in,those feelings you poured into usthese past monthsfill yourself up againwith your illusions, leave me emptyof your word vomitdid you think I would beg?did you think I would weep?did you think I would even blink?you do mea disservicewith these imaginingsI have been buried too many timesto be evisceratedby one more endingI will resurrect myself just fine
your loss tastes like newspapers soaked in blood for breakfast newsprint gathering dust in darkness printing presses silenced by State machinery spent bullets trampled into the dirt windshield glass mixed with sand deafness to a decade’s screaming a strangling of leads leading nowhere ink rendered invisible your silenced laughter spilling into the earth forebodings of what would follow with ...