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Celia Rose Jul 2019
You are the Titan of Tears,
Sobbing to the unforgiving milkman
Who breaks your ***** bottles
And feeds you curdled milk
From withering cattle.
He crunches around broken glass
With his scuffed leather boots on your front porch
As you watch from a hole in your bedroom wall,
Losing your first piece of dignity
And the last of the sanity carrying you since age ten.
You are the Titan of Tears,
Crying to the cutthroat poetess
Who refuses to send your estranged sister
A collection of misery soaked poetry.
She burns your insincere words in front of the mailbox;
Stanza by stanza the ash coats your mouth
Like lipstick for the ******.
Spiraling into smoke as she walks away
Fast enough to lose her in the midst of your fit.
The Titan of Tears—
You whimper in torn apart doorways
To block out strangers who will never appear.
You, Titan,
Who only feels clean when flossing
In the harshest of summer storms
Because you believe your great God is washing
Sins out of your matted hair.
You, Titan,
Whose childhood feels never-ending like evening traffic.
Childhood is the milky smoke you witness
Seeping from your dying neighbor’s chimney;
Childhood stares at you
Like glassy eyed pigeons outside of your office window
As you weep into your cold black coffee, Titan.
Your lacking adulthood is full of sloppy attempts to silence
Barking dogs in your slush brain,
Pushing down the bile that rises in your flaking throat,
As water floods your eyes like a basement during Katrina
And feeding worms writhe out of your flared nostrils,
Covered in snot and blackened discharge.
You are the Titan of Tears;
Your weeping rivals Mother Mary’s ****** streaks.
i am proud of this one.

— The End —