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Datore Fargo Mar 2022
My legs,
I can’t feel them.
Dear God,
I can’t move.
The devil,
put a curse,
on me.
He cracked,
my bones,
used them,
as forks,
and spoons.
I've become,
cutlery,
for Satan,
instead.
Datore Fargo Feb 2022
I found myself,
drowning,
unable,
to reach,
the surface.
Not quite,
dead,
yet unable,
to be called,
living.
My lungs fill,
to the brim,
as if I’m the,
sunkissed pitcher,
with sour lemonade,
inside of it.
I can’t breathe,
I’m pursed lipped,
wont accept it,
it is not,
my decision.
My cheeks,
warm yet,
wet.
Salty,
unlike,
my lungs.
It’s not,
fair,
but I’m not,
a child,
anymore.
Throwing,
tantrums,
until you give,
and I get,
my way.
Datore Fargo Jan 2022
Please,
I beg of,
thee,
bury,
me.
No,
a snorkel,
isn’t,
necessary,
I do not,
require,
to breathe,
and I forgot,
how to swim.
Bring tools,
to dig,
a hole,
deep.
****,
I broke,
a nail,
attempting,
free.
Worthless,
please,
push dirt,
over my head,
I’d much rather,
be dead.
Grant my wish,
desperately,
I’ve been,
good,
promisingly,
let me,
leave.
Datore Fargo Jan 2022
This year,
I want to,
live.
I’ll fly,
on onyx wings,
made of butterflies,
and broken,
tree limbs.
This year,
I crave to,
grow.
I’ll plant,
my own seeds,
and water,
roots,
that I’m sure,
will reach.
This year,
I’m going to,
jump.
I’ll hold,
my breath,
and know,
that yes,
I’m learning,
once again,
I can,
breathe.
This year,
I’m going to,
live,
I will fly,
jump right in,
into water,
that will grow,
my garden,
holding my breath,
I will swim,
to the surface,
breathing.
Datore Fargo Nov 2021
I hope,
you’re dead,
with little,
tiny maggots,
swimming,
in your,
head.
That’d be too,
easy,
like a fish,
off the hook.
I want you,
to be,
the worm,
wriggling,
for a sense of,
free.
I will,
dig you from,
the dirt,
you call,
home,
squish you,
under my,
converse.
Datore Fargo Nov 2021
She’s a sun dancer,
she smiles softly,
and breathes kisses,
onto the nape,
of your neck.
She lights cigarettes,
with the heat,
from her,
chest.
Is it sin,
forbidden,
to take a taste,
of the flavors,
she mixed?
Fingertips,
glide hesitantly,
among her,
hips.
Lustful marks,
left behind,
bruised fingerprints,
the curves,
of crooked,
teeth,
and my own,
dreams.
I don’t know her,
but I inhale,
and huff,
her in.
Datore Fargo Nov 2021
I saw butterflies,
perch,
on my toes,
last night.
They fluttered down,
from the ceiling,
calling my sole,
their home.
Onyx wings,
somehow sparkle,
in the late,
early hours,
of dawn.
I ponder,
will they,
carry me,
to my end,
this time?
Only wishes,
and the anxiety,
of being lost,
again,
this time.
I dream,
of freedom,
from reality.
It’s mocking my,
illusions,
birthing them into,
hallucinations.
My brain,
broken,
haphazardly,
glueing,
the pieces,
together.
Lost,
I’m drowning,
forgotten,
I should be,
flying.
Recently I’ve been sick, I’ve been having seizures, hallucinations. Unfortunately we haven’t figured out what is wrong with me, it’s neurological. I start medicine today so I may disappear for a while, but this poem is the closest I can get to expressing me again. I hope you enjoy.
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