Growing up ugly, alternately fat and thin
eating scars for breakfast and time for tea
having almost climbed out of a buried bin
only for it to be upended & held in place with
1939's world atlas; the one that got europe all wrong
& like me, was designed with accuracy in mind
Personable birds of prey prodded, persuaded
and set free the mean old biped growing inside
beach balls jolly popped and sandcastles raided
just to see the looks on hope & holyglow faces
their defeat in optimism: my triumph as cunt
full circle towards schematic self-sabotage
Once again i am bitter drunk and to be wed
we improvised trite vows and cut ourselves
spare keys for access to one another's sickbeds
In attendance: maternal ghosts and retired reapers
hurting with knowledge & witholding screams
Liver-spotted harbingers of age and all its mistakes
Older now than I ever thought was likely:
refuse to fight against the alarms of everything
as everything and everything change around me
But there are too many different colours of skin
and i never was a tolerant, I was always just witch
Now finally alone enough to weigh my empty chairs
Surprising, that when black hands materialise
my own teeth flash & spit through septic spells
make even him blink, in his absence of eyes
For in his face is a nothing that stills me
It's the same nothing that i've rotted with
All my sorry life i'd settled this way, instead of that
To ask for one more would be greedy, wouldn't it?
Now it feels like I've begged before, i'll beg again
I think when he kisses me it will be over