I can’t read it,
lethal masquerades, caught at the gates—bleeding my scar. I paid rent, I ignored
the lousy, the feline was still unsatisfied. I saw her without makeup, I saw
gorgeous, I knew innocence was dying. Gambling my jeans, eating pomegranates,
last to feel the helium—bouncing into fever, edged into concerns, walking a
stranger’s shoes. (I was in my mind, I was losing you, it revived on a hunch;
waiting my earnings, breaking my silence, like a fucking fool; listening to
Miley, asking my part, wolves and dirty dingoes. So confused, waiting for
disappearance, to go through hell, to make it through, and it appears again.)
Reading again. Ready again. Hating us again. Fleeing myself.
Put in years. Died
for years. Back into the future again.
What’s the reward?
Telling it to self, repeating it to self, attracted to something might satisfy.
And hating something the rain. Eating a piece of candy, two days left, the
habit becomes the war. I must move left, I need right, with boundaries crossed
and feeling pathetic.
I was a menace. I choked
on pain. So dramatic. Standing in stillness.
