she awaits the passing of seasons—for the debris
to heap up on the horizon of her frame: a chrysalis
constructed from decaying time. she will be reborn.
you know when the person you love and
you decide to break up, and you both say
to each other, you both agree that you
will be friends. and you think it, for a day
a week even, and he is still texting you and
you are still texting him, laughing like you
would do when you were one. and then you
meet his girlfriend at the mall, some butter
blonde bitch whose decolletage busts out
in peach ovals and she can't even tell you
how many guys she's fucked or let alone loved and
your boyfriend, or your lover who no longer is
yours is smiling like he has what he has always
wanted, all that is not you, and you become
bitter and backbitten and say someth
out of all the bitches you've chosen
to put in your yard, i'm the one
you should have left at the pound;
here, on the hardwood
you wither from your wounds
that mimic the width of my mouth
there is something about being left
outside while others dine on
the meat of your rafters
that distills stability;
watching from the back window
i froth with greed at my lips,
and you, now pitted with
my marks,
will too.
i’m drowning on the pavement
and all the voices are repeating over and over and over again
words i can’t make out
i wanted to be something beautiful
but my cells can only perform mechanical operations
no stars supernovas oceans exist in me
and the moon is like a hard knot in the sky
bleeding ichor on his other side
the sun flashes hot cancerous light blinding
and i am blind nonexistent in the daylight
invisible refracting the world around me
repeating over and over and over again
hard drum beats and tangled roots that reach out
rhythmic dying in the cold winter sun
god
oh god, i wanted to believe in something