#3seconds
for one second i thought
that i finally figured things out
the next second i thought
that i finally could be proud
of me
for once
the second after i thought
that id be finally allowed
to hope again
but then i thought
that it snowed yesterday
i live in spain,
where snow is smt that may be special for once
but doesn’t
remain
seemed like it got lost somehow
in a territory where it didn’t belong
just like my thoughts that weren’t fitting to my playlist and its usual songs
three seconds
Apr 25, 2021
Apr 25, 2021 at 6:07 PM UTC
We keep on cutting, edges off the blind parts of our hands.
Everyone you don't trust is getting, a little too close, and
Soon you'll be so loud that all of your fears come out.
Each ounce of you, that I packed into sandwich bags
And shoved down my throat, that now while you try
To back out, your bloodied olive-sized organs
Get jammed in my lungs and my ribs. You pretend
That your heart is a bouncy beach ball filled with helium,
But with even the practice you had at lying, I can smell
How new at this you are. Some part of me, childish still
I presume, brushes my fingers through your hair and
Over your ears, then touches this face stuck with splinters
That you've tried to use scissors to combat every thing
Making you feel differently about us now. Now.
Using the contraption from when we started out,
The Jaguar convertible with the top brought down,
Cruising up to San Fran when we thought the sun was out,
But we managed to make it the only Summer where it snowed downtown.
Even with the hummer, you were on my right, looking backwards out
Of your eyes. Glass crystals cut the corners of your mouth, looking back,
I centered my turn-ons by the bruises I bit into your calves.
The number of times I've let you rattle my cage,
******* up my brain. The slave wage you paid,
Main-stage, 'The Rage', for a hand-me-down
Chance to get laid.
****** and God, a forty-hour a week job,
Benchmark No. 1, 'The Saw.'
Tailored into the skins, needle pins and numbness
Attached to the dumbest excuses to run with.
For the *** the anticipation was sinning enough,
That every once in a while I could afford to be turned off.
The next three days and Maisie,
Your teenage head went crazy,
Every ten minutes you paged me.
The price of admission, I wished,
Would've been the attention I'd give,
A cannibal habit, you kicked. I quit
Bothering you about what your *** size is.
After eight months, of which I said they were probably closer to nine,
Was the beginning of when I could convince you to drive yourself
Into my house. While the closet I could afford ensnared you,
I wore washed up Air Jordan's with skinny black Levi's,
You dyed your hair to gray before going blonde, it went to your hips
But you kept a ponytail or bob.
I'm remembering now, nearly every other day at age twenty-two,
Going to Clark's and ordering hashbrowns with green peppers on Sherman Avenue.
Every resistant bone in my body bothers me, I sit with the transistor between
My first finger and index, tuning the **** while rehearsing violent seminars
Between you and I that resembled closely The Bay of Pigs. Your fingernails never
Had time to grow long enough to paint. You also never wanted to wear high heels.
This is the first chance without plastic lunch-bags in my throat, that I can chew up my food, without choking on olive pits that have been Getting stuck in my esophagus for the last thirteen years.
Don't hate me.
I know you saw me, you're sawing at me.
But when I see you, I say, "Marry me."
We only have seconds left,
Give me your shallow breaths,
I'll cup my hands and catch the water while you drink from me.
Drink from me, every flavor that you can grip between your teeth.
There are only seconds now, I'm counting 23.
Why won't you love me? Why won't you love me? Why won't you love me?
I choke. I ache. I scream.
Kristine.
3 seconds left.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 6:26 AM UTC