deepundergroundpoetry.com

how i became you

 

.

she was a too quiet carousel of desire,
a relief from my own nihilistic dreamlands and dark horse fancies,
i was a long lost prophet's rambling man fantasy, and
she was
ever my last clue, a glue stick of sorts
to pity my shards of most succulent wisdom
that i leave scattered sometimes
throughout glory realms of little peekaboo stars
dying on my ceiling
fake me into something like a hangover
a crying waking whole for me to cuddle and coddle in a world that is too bright when i'm--

i'm never bright enough
i needed a hole to crawl into when i most needed sleep, most needed anarchy and chloroform
and a sleeping crown of curls in my lap
to tangle and untangle again,
a stain to remove
that wasn't a symptom of me
or my organs.. . i tried to kiss her awake, but she would not budge

almost spitefully, just five more minutes and a wake up call. five more minutes, and i'm batting the dawn away
reminded of that effervescent sigh i watched disappear from me
like a firefly into the sea
i felt my phone buzzing, but i could not remember the word parched even,
how to move my fingers, which part of me was numb

maybe she was a delusion
or perhaps i was the nightmare all along,
a cunt full of razors waiting for sleep to whisper something vaguely sadomasochistic but pitiful into a too sober ear,
identical to mine
for sleep to give me something to get all slippery wet and silky slutty daytripping
before slipping it in and storming my defenses, kissing my hairline like it's a fracture
i'm still misunderstanding you
the misunderstood mistaken
shaken like a bloody case of the chills
my friend thought i was finding baby jesus
well, i wasn't
i was burying the darlin' and leaving the same store bought wilting daisies you never think to bring me


as an afterthought


i am the agony in sadly unrivaled chaos, an unwritten letter
but that doesn't stop the puke
green with envy
or 12 boys thinking of me as they masturbate themselves into circles
i'm running around them
because the corners were all being leased
by this lame cripple with motion sickness

guess i am just a jezebel after all
smiling more wickedly than you think
i know how
winking back at the clouds



i'm so fucking alone i want to vomit
tell your dick to say its prayers, kiss it softly,
sing to it
and never call it,

not even once
Written by sooterella
Published
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