i've never been without you, neither
have i felt any real need for you.
you were someone that was there,
you made living (dying?) more comfortable.
then, there was the time that i wanted you. so much
to have you, prove i could have you,
say you're not a big deal. that was the time
i was so angry for not having you,
not being able to get you, not being able to prove
what you are or are not.
i hated you. what it meant not having you.
i can still taste that hatred sometimes.
it tastes like fat. like oil.
deep fried
satisfying
it hits my stomach
absorbs into the intestines
inches its way to those places
separating organs from each other
then seeps to that fine fine space
just under the skin
it sits there, i can't get rid of it
but i want more
that slick, slimey feel on my lips
taste buds tingling for release
until i'm not sure who's devouring what.
i haven't a stitch of you left with me now
im a liar and a thief
and even i being me
wouldn't trust myself if i were someone else.
why should you
a strange thing
to be free with nothing
not even a calculated expectation
outside
everyone despises that
but the taste of it
is like sweet water.