Dying of thirst in my empty Kool-Aid pitcher  

 
Men have begged
for my love
women too,
and I gave it
to him
as easily
as blowing the
fuzz off
a dandelion

and I asked him to
keep me safe
from the head games
I play with myself

Long story short:
He said no.
So I’m drinking a lot.

He said no.

And I want to know what
the actual fuck is
socially wrong
in having
an
inbox
just
for
one

It's like being surrounded
by desperation-fueled
soul-desiccation,
where the hunt for human connection
is watered down emotional
Kool-Aid

and sipping straws are
dipped in
everyone’s cup
at the same time  
so you never have
to risk
being thirsty

It’s dopamine.
It’s ego harems.
It’s making sure you never
have to feel the trapped
animal of loneliness,

so you have this person to talk about sex
and this person to talk about mental health,
and this person to give advice to,
and this person to talk about poetry to,

It’s sips of lemon-lime, and grape,
and cherry, and berry all one after
another so your tongue turns black
and you just taste sugar-colored shit
but never
really
taste any one
(taste anyone)

My inbox grows
great tumbleweeds

because I still
thought I was here
for the fucking insanity
of the art

and my human connection
is a sacred piece of that

I want to take a human
and obsess about them
until my teeth ache.

I want to crawl on
broken glass to see them
smile and write shit
about their eyelashes
that makes God pause
to say … whoa, bitch

I want to cloister
away from
doubt until I can
stop shaking from
the horror of being

just someone’s sip

I wanted to love him
like I could create
new universes
in his image

Love him like we
had only mirrors
on the wall
and they were shrouded
in our mystery
as the world mourned

I wanted to die of thirst
without him
and only the
taste of his
day on my mind

I don’t even like Kool Aid
Fuck.

I wanted him

I wanted him
to be the wine I saved
my entire life to open
every sip cherished
as it slid on my hungry tongue

I wanted to be
worth
one cup.

And I’m.

(watery sigh)

I’m not.



I wanted to love him.


Oh, God, I wanted to love him.
and I thought it was real
but it was just a person  
desperate enough
to drown his thirst
without the dangerous
taste of a single soul

men have begged for my love.
women too.

I watch his back,
my lips cracked
at the corners

my skin flaking

and my heart dry enough
to dissipate
in our vacuum
as easily as blowing the
fuzz off a dandelion

because

I am out of things
to drink
my darling,


I am out of straws.