feast

her heart wasn’t steady

a ship in a storm

your constant tugging of doubt

porcelain in versace heels

shining and talking politely

medication and daddy issues

is this what could have been?

 

dress never wrinkled

reasonably educated

a muse for your artistic endeavours

manic

pixie

dream

girl

 

shes falling and

grasping on bodies and trying to get back up

tripping and slipping and

holding onto the warmth of blood to blood

 

spaced out

close to death

close to pain

raw throat

wishing she could go back to those times

slamming on the cement

in the bathroom you are trying to stop her

knuckles bruised

bleeding and blacking out and bleeding

not back there

she cannot go back there

you wont have it

 

matters are tough

and feelings  are sharp

shallow pangs

you feel nothing

she is rotting

flies on the meat

swirling and feasting

 

 

 

Holy Bedroom

The hungry bed waits for you,

with its sheets twisting and its pillows stiff.

 

Just take a bite of the apple,

let the juice run down,

dripping and sticky.

 

Warm milk in a plastic cup,

Just like grandma gave me.

The perfect temperature,

no bubbles or steam.

 

The bed is restless,

it wants to be full.

I cut the poached eggs

you watched the yolk spill out,

beading in small yellow drops.

Dribbling onto a spongy bed of rye.

 

Sleep my little angel,

tell your mom you are in good hands.

The bed has you now,

twisting its cotton sheets around you,

like little tricky snakes.

 

 

 

 

 

My Neck, mY bacK

And without a word they touched their bare bellies together,

Making slurping sounds.

Anna, with a drink in her hand said,

“It just made sense”.

“It just did” she repeated.

A ritual? A greeting?

Who knows.

Plantasia

And my neigbours are old but they are up later than me.

My spelling is bad, yet I still write poetry.

Personality, personality, writing needs depth,

No rhyme scheme no syllable counts no breath.

My bare calloused hands killing flies,

With sheets of polyester, pizza boxes and zip ties.

That line was hard to swallow,

Like cum and medicine and pills and sorrow.

November

Maybe I need eternal sleep,

Or, maybe I am just too weak.

 

I like to be alone.

Decomposing their bones.

 

 

Steel toed boots in November sun,

Fist fights, pity sex, and dad’s gun.

Hold your last breath,

Distracted death.

 

Staving and sick?

Take your pick.

I’m having a blast,

I’m too cool at last.

 

 

American

I cut your manicured lawn,

And fuck your mom.

I’m a suburban serial killer,

Empty and looking for filler.

 

I am perpetual depression,

And major in constant aggression.

I am obsessed,

At best.

 

I clean your shiny pool,

And play you like a fool.

A glimmer in my eye,

Watching your family die.

 

I make minimum wage,

Get high off rage.

Trophy wives,

Wasted lives.

 

I vacuum the pastel rug,

And sell your son drugs.

He can be just like me,

Trapped in suburbia eternity.

Bottle Nosed and Face Down

I wish I had giant eyes

The kind of eyes that are so glassy

And so glossy

that they cannot be real

I wish they would take over my sight

Allowing for hyper sight

Seeing through

Seeing over

Seeing who I am

 

I wish my eyelashes went further than my brow

Catching tears before they descend

Cupping the salty liquid

Returning it

Carving raw designs into my forehead

Telling me who I am

 

I wish the crook of my neck

Was large enough to consume my family

Store them with me

Even when they are long dead

Decomposed

Their bones would become mine

Intertwined

Infinte

Showing me who I am

 

I wish I had a buzz cut

So short

You can see every mark

Every scrape

On my scalp

The kind of hair that makes you question gender

They can decide who I am

Tentacles

She has covered me in her sticky adhesive again,

Latex free?

Love free.

It impedes my vision,

Tugging at my eyelids.

Forcing the tears,

I have held for so long.

Sterile heart.

Sterile mind.

There is nothing sterile about me.

I’m tarnished,

No amount of latex free adhesive can glue me back together.

Glaring, I can see her smiling.

Ridiculing me.

As if I wanted,

The sticky tentacles of her caring.