my existence
is that of procrastination
biding my time
until the clock ticks out
father time
will have no ***** left to
give, and mother
nature will have
jogged her course
there's nothing left for
me here. raucous chatter,
degradation via insolence,
disregard for basic human
life
******* on my virtues,
scraping up my vices
(like gravy curds left on ham)
you pick me apart
and throw me to my bed
so I can dig my fingernails into
my upperthigh and muse
on regret and self-hatred and
the mistake of my
existence, as I wait
for father time
to grow tired of me
as well
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 1:50 PM UTC
one
tumbled
out of the womb
convulsing
like a breakdancer
five
posed with
lights & cigarettes,
light
eight
lipstick smeared
giddily on the
backhand
twelve
bought birth control
shared among friends
pills split with a jacknife
sixteen
fascinated by
violet waves
& crystal castles
twenty-one
cancer of the soul
flask in her ribs
she moves
among suitors
like whispers of fame
twenty-two
nosering replaced
polished for the wake
croptop in the casket
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 1:29 AM UTC
you are
the heckler in the crowd
trying to rip out
the rug from
beneath my toes
silent was the treatment
firm was my resolve
indifference
between books,
tables, & legs.
it lasted until
the viewing party
preening, fresh
dye, a new luster to
your slick, sheared visage
you smile & draw
a little bit of blood
it comingles with your own
hot & thick,
(they await
with baited breath
the proper demise
of union that never was)
& slackjawed, wide
eyed, resolve dis-
solved
I set you
on a pedestal again
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 12:54 AM UTC