Time and drugs, the binding of our book.
How can I love when my heart beats
like the wings of a dying butterfly?
Hands shake
shake
shake hard enough that the leaves from surrounding trees
fall
and the salt and pepper shakers clang
China notes upon the table.
I spit on you, but I have no right
(nor left)
to do so.
Cut your hair, go for a run, leave yourself behind.
Dance with yourself or dance with the devil,
the two are one and one is zero.
Coffee, bass, thump, stomp,
coffee
coffee
coffee.
Ingest toxicity as the earth ingests the rain,
the rain that once was water-
wasn't it?
Bleeding eyes and tasteless lips and feet that touch,
soul to sole.
Who are you to dance, to drink, to forget,
while I stand stagnant
as a memory?
Come home to tearful cheeks and screams of pain,
come kiss my eyelids with your
punches,
or stay buried within your beautiful haze of smoke and
uppers
downers
all-arounders.
Capture a moment as a child captures an ant,
harmless at first
until the tweezers come out
and then-
oh,
there go my legs.
And in the other realms the time sweeps
through sands of soulless poison,
green and beautiful and stocked in slime enough to cover all of
Jerusalem.
Dance
dance
dance until you seize and your mind is a blank page of
uncried bloody tears.
And as my soul burns upward and the flames singe my
nostrils,
I reach toward the closest substance,
just push
push
push these flames back inside and downward,
before I combust into a ball of hellfire
right here on the grey tile floor.