a flare of fasting
last time we talked,
i really want it but
i still blanched at the thought
and when i said,
"our kids will be —"
i stopped pretty
suddenly
for obvious reasons.
all i want.
all i want is to reach in there,
maybe down my throat,
maybe plunge my hand straight through
my sternum
like i saw in a certain photograph
(except that was a child,
and it was the grim reaper pulling out all
of his insides and leaving a flap of a shell.)
reach in there,
and grab my heart
(hold that in one hand)
reach into my brain,
pluck out a body
stick the heart in the body
and i'm good to go!
i used to think of music but now all i hear is
this could be love,
(LOVE FOR FIRE)
and men with fatally gorgeous names
and fingers on a long-necked bass
i used to think of soliloquies but now all i see is
his sleazy, anorexic body, oozing sex,
oh hamlet, spit out those words,
sear that poor girl's brain;
let those guards force you to the ground
from this time forth,
my thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth
3 comments:
i was going to say "words fail me" but then i spelled "fail" as "fails" and that looked dumb, so i decided to say:
this is the best thing you've written since "angela montenegro"
this was brilliant, despite being a further detriment to my spirits.
this made me want to drive all the way to your house without a cover story for doing so.
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