rage paves the way for sorrow
and then regret. i find myself holding you
close to my heart and my mind, slowly
driving myself into a pothole. you are
never far, and
i know you feel it too. come on out
and dance instead. think of
me, think of the moments we could be
stealing instead of dead air suffocating
the both of us beat by beat. i long
for your touch, hollowing me out
and then ending it all.
the new year’s day,
when the roof caved in. the film
moved me from tears to an
unending sense of
absolute dread and nothing was
the same after that.
guilt, a steady piercing ache
humming in my head like the
emergency broadcast system.
electric and sour.
the bar,
silently sitting staring and
stirring my whiskey rocks, i can recall
that exact moment i knew we were
done— an albatross deep in my chest
years later. my shame is
immeasurable and trying to piece it all
together now feels futile. but as i find
myself again, ounce by ounce it
dissipates.
another frightening dawn.
i used to love the way you said
my name, softly with a smile and then
intensely. now you won’t
say a word and i burn for you—
your lewd, often sweet voice over
the phone and
your growling. gripping me in
your arms and not letting go as
you ruin me, wantonly staring me
down like the barrel
of a shotgun— execution style
out back at the woodshed. guttural
groans as you explode, loosening
your grip on my neck with each hot
pulse. my eyes roll back as you
deliver your final pumps, me clenching
all around you in ecstasy, needing you
deeper still. clawing at
your back as you devour me and
nothing else mattered. seal it
with a kiss.
take me back i am begging you
to that bed, to that man.
prying emotions with forceps because i
cannot properly Be. i know that
parts of me remain, lost in
the murky broth of my mind. i write
and i scratch and i yell and
i sob into the void begging to be heard
and told i am not alone. a warm hug
to carry, a forehead kiss. an inviting
hand, a waist grab. it’ll be okay.
did any of it happen? was any of it
real? i could touch you and breathe you
and feel you so deeply, feel
your hazely eyes searing me up
and down, hot and heavy. i miss you
at all hours, raw and beating.
were you genuine when you said you
wanted me? or was it just for that
particular set of weeks until it was
time to turn me into a ghost.
and for what, to preserve
your fragility at the expense of
authentic warmth? reduced to a
punchline, a comment where
i once Was. i will win no accolades
for hiding my heartache. i have been
stripped of what little poker face i’ve
ever had. you used to turn me inside
out. my days are numbered, now.
it will boomerang, darling. it
always does.
fuck physicists
who don’t know about us, how
we lust and love and
fuck and yell and cry and sweat
and oh my god,
i am so tired. have been since
the day i arrived,
but you’re tired
too. and yet— brilliantly,
you are a constellation that
keeps changing, flitting, flirting,
fitting. we are sultry matter
circling and swirling. go faster to
see what happens when we crash
into each other once more, drawn
like magnets in the breakdown.
the MARS DEN 