our darling doe eyes and receding hairlines
are built on twisted ladder halves of complementary
acidic elegance, skulls sparking hot thoughts compartmentally
like God-wrought charging elephants stampeding
twenty-four triumphant feet crushing dry grass
with soft flesh under a noontide flash
of a hot, wet, center-set
self-destructible sun.
.
we run on dark-spotted blood and it shows.
let’s yell at each other for a while.
it will heal our hearts and afterward
we’ll need cough medicine, which will
make us sleep like babies.
.
there’s nothing left to fight over.
all buildings are destroyed and our
ideas have jumped from our skulls to grow
in the dirt. we will join them someday
to feed them not just with our heads
but with our whole bodies.
.
I waste so much time
not doing what I want to do
and not saying what I want to say.
everything I have ever loved is burning.
what else is there to make you understand?
.
drag your grosgrain bow
across these gut strings and
make them sing.
I would like to violently
remove the front door
with my own two
weak female human hands
and throw it at the face
on your skull holding the
caustic billboard two-timing
slimy gray matter making
the inconsequential whining
grinding down the sensitive
brakes in my brain overheating
with the flare of stifled
impatience, coming out of
a pink-glossed mouth without
doubt about flimsy fictional
convictions – yes, I’m
an insensitive bitch but
at least I’ve put some
thought behind it.
