Straight jacket

 
I spit a chunk of
foam on the ground,
rub my cheek
against the jagged
hole in
the wall,
matted hair
drags through
spit and blood

There isn’t anything
to laugh about

so I do

I need the space this
jail offers because
I’m fucking insane

And I never pretended else-wise.

Madness and genius dance on
the goddamn ceiling;
some days they assfuck
until it all makes sense


Because when you ask
why
and I say
I
Don’t
Know

I do know

I know I wake up
at dawn and try to outrun
out fuck
out work
out perform
out hotbitch
out smartbitch
out

out

out-whatever the
fucking madness
for a few more miles or minutes

Real goddamn madness
that clings to my fingers
like congealed gravy

It’s calm.
Right now.
Without you.

So
I dig my toenails into the
foam pad on the ground
and scream
wordlessly
of madness and
death and betrayal;
of being a used mattress
filed with spindly fingers,
or an empty can of Diet Coke
that’s never recycled

Crazy is the terror
and jealousy
and paranoia
and rage
and irrationality
as I wait for you
to throw me away

Every moment apart
affirms that you can
(Anytime)

Anytime you want

My elbows itch.
I flip so I’m
face down,
and I inchworm
across
the ground
looking for
hands-tied relief

Love hurts
so
much
that I like to chew my
sickened limbs off like a
dog gnawing a paw
caught in a bear trap
rather than let the
snake-bite love-juice make
it through my veins

It makes me so fucking
disconnected
so….
….obsessed….
that
everything not you
is like snorting
bleach to cure
a phantom-limb itch

And that amputation,
in my wretched mind,
happened the moment the
you wrapped your arms
around me, and kissed
the little spot behind my ear,
and made little romantic shivers
pill on the sweater of my skin

I break a moment and sob
until the floor is slick

Because I don’t
want to do this
anymore

I don’t want the
up-down-back-forth
on-off-fuck-you
in-out-goddamn-it
I’m-sorry-you’re-sorry
do-you-still-want-me
fuck-I-love-fuck-I-can’t
why-is-it-never-enough
fuckery that comes
with my
masticated
heart

I don’t want to go another
round with my own insanity
just to die another night
in your arms

I mean that shit is top shelf
but I have died so very
often and…
(watery sigh)
Fuck.

it’s time?

It’s time.
Time
to lick apologies
on your lap while
I slit my belly with
a plastic fork.

To fix my hair
and whisper sick candy
in your ear until you
swear I’m
yours

To end the fucking siege,
raise the white
panties of truce
and eat the lunacy
like Nutella on
rice crackers

I don’t want to.

I don’t want to.

The buckles on the jacket
make a pleasant clanging sound
as I slam my head against the floor.

I don’t want to.
love.
you.




So I do.









so i do