on purpose, on purpose.
I will not love you on accident.
I did not wake up suddenly overwhelmed.
I am quite whelmed, honestly.
but with my head up, my eyes open, my arms held wide aloft,
I am walking face-first into loving you.
the stains on my teeth from where I bit back
should scare you off, would scare me away.
but your hands are raw with fighting back.
I want to love you on accident. I want the surprise, the shock, the explosive horror of being so uncontestably tied to someone else that I cease even to be my own body.
but this is better. maybe less movie worthy, less poem worthy, but better.
I look at you and see your flaws, and think how they mirror my own.
and I want to be here, fully here.
on purpose, I think of you.
on purpose, I am loving you.

it spills out of a closed wound
a hole carved in you that you've covered a thousand times
you gag it down, but it come up anyway
pours out of your eyes and ears
tastes like smoke.
hot tar, sticking to everything
***** again, ***** again
filthy, immeasurably filthy
you want so badly to be cleaned
sticky and thick, you're choking
stop it up, close the hole again.
you're choking, close it up.
you're choking.

you turn them over in your head
over, over, turn it around
every angle, every reflection
every reaction,
you know the sharp edges
it isn't a surprise when they cut you again
you don't pick up a razor and not expect to cut something.
carve away the old scars, deeper in
cut them down to bone.
you'll heal again, close up over the infection and need to be cut away.
if you weren't the infection, you could be cured.

sticky, thick, you're choking again.
close the wound.

I got tired of the beating, so I took it out.
that messy red lump of flesh, dripping onto the laminate floor.
thud-thud-thudding even removed
wet meaty smell and sticking to my fingers.
a cavern in my chest echoing through my ribs
miles deep and deep and deep
I'll burn this mortal heart
and cure myself of longing.

I want to crawl between your ribs
Nestle on your lungs
Breathe in deep and slow
Feel me there on your sternum

You broken cherry stem
Your body so divine
Your thighs my diadem
Your love as sweet as wine

Break my body down
Rip me into shreds
My skin becomes your gown
And on your wall my head

I miss my passion
the endless roar of want and need in my throat
every possibility exciting and new
possible, even

I miss needing to know and needing to be and feeling so much
feeling everything, constantly, overwhelmed by so many things that I was lucky enough to experience

and this emptiness, this aching hollow where my heart was
nothing can fill it
where my passion ripped out of me and bled through my shirt as I repeated line after line
an empty space beneath my ribs and behind my throat

I miss explosiveness and anger
I miss crying
I miss feeling whole and real

the way you look through me
makes my heart drop
from my chest
heavily
to my crotch
I wish you'd lower your expectations
and raise your skirt
but it's nice to pretend
that you could ever care for me
when you share platitudes.

I am the god of mortality and cold
I am silent and ancient, or, I was
I have died so many times, now it is all I can think of
I have forgotten the wrong I committed that cursed me to mortality
but it must have been very wrong indeed
I can only hope one day, or lifetime, my penance will be complete
and pray to be released from this formless curse
mortality clouds me, my greatest fear and my only chance for relief
and I have no knowledge if it helps or harms to take it into my own hands
it feels better, but I keep coming back
I want to be finished
my soul is too weary for another living body