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absinthe Mar 2016
to build an edifice
from the ground, up
you have to dig at first
from the ground, down

we marvel at skyscrapers

we break our necks for them
they supersede white clouds
the higher up they rise
the lower down they’ve been

that's why you marvel at me

- end
absinthe Mar 2016
dear b,

i haven't written about you in a while
my white paper hasn't seen black ink in a while

i wonder if i should get it over with
speed the ball up
my head is rolling head-on
in the direction of storms
any way
i wonder if you still think about me

   do you still love me?


i catch myself laughing sometimes
but my tailgating tears never leave
me enough time when they crash into me
it feels like treason whenever i reveal my teeth
to anyone except you, b
i'd trade them all for you in a
heartbeat, if my heart beat

i wish my tears would stop
holding memories in each drop
like when we'd
share sore stomachs
and teary eyes
for all the right reasons
not for reasons like mine
from too much laughter
and not enough sleep
and junk food
and bad tv
and midnight 7-11 runs
and smoke breaks
and made up words
and
i can keep going
just like my tear ducts
i wish the void you'd left me
was in my tear ducts
i’ve even turned to black
just to feel like you and
we feel
    so
weak
i need you here with me
i feel my insides churn
i keep withdrawing
i wish b was for black
then the pain would make sense
i'm even crying as i write this, b
maybe this is the only way
at least that’s what they all say
but i can't help but think of you alone
in that lifeless room

just please promise me
you'll come back one day
i’m growing
impatient, b
why won't i stop bleeding
but it's ok, b
i don’t mind waiting
for you i’d wait more
if there was more than
eternity

sincerely,
your biggest enemy
absinthe Mar 2016
i never knew there was a point
worse than wishing for death
until i met
indifference.

- end
absinthe Mar 2016
eighty-five
pounds ago, mother told me the secret
to losing it just like she did—the weight, that is
she let me know at eight that a low number on the scale
does equate beauty, that less is more

it’s simple, really, she’d say to me,
i felt disgusting, it got out of hand, trust me
i’d have snipped my skin had i no other option
i’d have shed my flesh had i not had ten fingers

so i frequented that room down the hall for some rest
felt as cascades filled my larynx with emptiness
i'd get high afterwards having thrown every throe up
the smaller the waist/waste, the more waste i’d throw up
and i loved it...

so i'd insist and press my gag-reflex harder just to test it
then savor (the way) the reverse acid-flavored after-taste(d)  
i frequented that shared room down the hall everyday for my next fix
to compuke the total sum of endless time plus ten long fingers
and i loved it...

see, there’s nothing quite as indicative of progress as is
seeing your handmade artwork (sink) in marble canvasses

there’s just one problem
i still feel disgusted today but with
just one difference

the s(kin) i wish to shed is on you and you’re my extension
i’d hate to skin my flesh but what options have you left over?
i(’ m)ean, the key to losing leftover's at your fingertips

eight*y-five
pounds later, i told mother how right she was
i *do
love the emptiness, particularly when i'm
in ninety-degree summers and i feel cooler (lean)ing
at ninety-degrees trying hard to find the right angle
for kissing the hard marble my tongue hangs out for with hunger

there’s just one difference
i feel disgusting, i’m just like _
but there’s just one problem

i’m addicted to hitting my speed bag, it has me boxed in
it was in my stomach at first but then it started spreading
like vicious late-stage cancer with its victims, i feel livid
and now my stomach’s sinking and i can feel it turning
upside-down but it’s not the acid or toxicity
or the stress ulcers or my self-disappointment with me  

that today make me puke
my problem, to speak the whole truth
is that it’s not me
mother, it’s _


- end -
absinthe Mar 2016
we
are** far
too
lazy

hate
is all
too
easy

that
is why
to-
day

we
obey
the
******

- end
absinthe Mar 2016
mother and father speak french
each with different dialects
they cause misunderstandings

big brother speaks greek
little brother, turkish
they might as well be strangers

i speak Jin (Chinese)
in my own home i live
with foureign members

the barrier between us causes battles
as if we were calloused enemies
all i wanted was to live in peace

so i went on to learn french dialects, two
greek and turkish, to(o)
promote room for healthy growth

i stood outside its door
looked down at my two feet and saw
a doormat reading "communication"

i had to step on it
so i could take a step forward
the worst part was seeing
foureigners uniting
to fight a common ene(me)
but i was determined
i though peace worked
so i worked for peace

but now i dread the trip home each night
and still i drive to a foreign land
till one day i jumped over the mat

and into the room to see
new embroidery on the wall
ever so eloquently reading

"make war not love"
in Jin (Chinese).

- end
absinthe Mar 2016
i sleep on the ceramic floor each night
to keep the creases in my bedsheets intact
i never knew you were an artist
till the day you painted them and left.

- end
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