Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Max Barsness Jun 2018
Suicidal beyond reprieve
Don’t worry honey
It’s not you
It’s me
I was betrothed with this disease
Battered housewife to my brain
The only *****
That will never leave
Me
Is
Me
Max Barsness Jun 2018
He has
Been usurped by barley before
Golden blades
Which willingly widen at the base
Specking and neighing before Euclid’s geometry
Teetering his terrible truth
Before the teeth of the combine

She is
Surrounded by myths of family
Sustained in that old fermentation
What she has is a rare cask
What she wants is a rare cut
What she is offered is not a rarity
What she accepts is the controlled spoilage
Over flowing her half empty glass

He appreciates
This auburn sharpness
Swaying before the wind
As it is bathed at the basin of the sink
Soaked in hydrogen peroxide
Looking at life’s vapid revelations
of her un-shucked past

She expects
To be a queen away from constant cultivation
Though eventually she will be taken from behind
Plucked from some store bought husk
One size too small
The only one left looking ahead
She will then proffer an ultimatum
Sitting atop the protruded spine
Where she will grind out the imperfections of man

He sleeps
As sleeps go
Nestled into that heathered silo
Flecked and bereft of material
Here is
A rest incomplete
Somnambulist upbringing
Allowed for somnambulist #adulting
A paralyzed gasped
Waking to the ghosts & ghouls
That grew deeply from her fertile soil

She dreams
As dreams go
Bestowed princes atop sterling steeds
Bellowed ball gowns
Broken into fables and bandaged brothers
Threshing out appendages
Screaming to be lengthened
Put up on the bar to build the perfectly sculpted ***
A reminder of an imperfect personality
A relationship is the constant reminder of compromise
He will not always make her ***
But more often than she cares to admit
She will always go
Max Barsness Jun 2018
As I spin
I reach for the hammer
A nail
A notion
Slamming around
As I spin
Reaching for the top shelf
An aperitif
An award
A noble sense of self
As I spin
Structured
Braced
By the ballast binding
The bleached white
Shackles of health
As I spin
A lung
Has languished
Lured to the left
Altered angina
As I spin
A hope catches
Me
Off guard
As I spin
I catch myself
On a line
No one is tugging

— The End —