deepundergroundpoetry.com
Afterwards, we’ll all remember having seen it coming
I’m an atomic bomb of a woman
living in a hand grenade dress
a chest charged with bullets
trip wires for eyelashes
dressing my catastrophic dead
I want my remains
to be wheeled through London
stopping traffic without care
angry drivers shouting obscenities
forgetting in the end
we all ride out with no address
and I feel as if
I’m marching through Leningrad
tattooing Chernobyl on my thigh
howling through the rubble
of my ground-zero heart
because I’m war-torn, love—
I speak to destroy
drowning in secrets and suicide
watching bodies pile up
year-upon-year
some nights you’ll find me
a metal pin between my teeth
wanting to taste
exactly what its like
to exist without fear
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