In Deference to Bia and Melinoe on the Path to Tartarus
Tonight I am fortune tellers and tarot cards. depression dressed up in red lipstick All heavy breath No heart Numb meteor showers behind cloudy skies I will burn out before I reach out I am to far away
(Tonight) I can feel the distance between myself and the sun Can feel every flame lick out from its surface grabbing onto my skin The clouds heavy with rain in their stomachs Desperately trying to hold it in The sky is black
(Tonight) I am glass empty third bottle of the night Blackout...
I did not fit there either shared bunk beds with my ten year old son a constant fight to keep the roaches at bay
Glancing over shoulder at the times I thought I could squeeze myself in boxes ubiquitous Only to find myself looking at loose threads and snug buttons Edges overlapping Pages stuck together showing that it just. that I just. did not was not part
Proof of an otherness
As if somehow this makes being alone better Makes the outside okay...
my coffee tastes burnt now Scorched tongue Charcoal in the back of my throat Choking on smoke and spoiled cream Coughing up memories Cannot scrub your smile from retina No matter how long I stand brushing teeth Staring into bathroom mirror Cannot erase hands from waist Fingertip’s pulling Purple and blue Skin fused Nostalgia tissue paper thin Torn By spilt coffee spoiled cream Tender Fragile Open
Lemons low on branches Stale air thick with sweat Heartbeat slow angry tight bite of brick against flesh is fridgid frost on front lawns 3am Lips perforating lips Pulse Involuntarily extracted Saccharine fermentation Lemons low on branches Stale air thick with sweat
Vast emptiness awaits Paper boats lost on the ocean
We stood in line for hours Lovers and saxophone players Milk carton girls in magazines
The last show was sold out
We turned around went home The bathtub looked miles away Ashes ground into carpet turned blanket Wrapped up in the illusion of safety White noise Car horns Endless traffic Target practice makes perfect sense