“Elaborate more, please.
It’s like watching you pick up the same
Two glasses with one hand,
Only to drop one when grabbing the other.
Those small hands.
Fluctuate
Vibrate
Circumvent
I’m so ashamed of our ebb and flow
I am not a failure, I don’t want to die
But
But
I entertain you
I entertain this-that
Holds a hand over my nose and mouth
And I can smell the faulty perfume
I can taste the salty skin that was mine
Bonded
Exaggeratedly, damned,
I am a harrowing thief of validation.
Clasping, clutching letting my
Extremely old and violently comfortable habits
Take hold and hold onto what I’ve taken
Slip away into a murky
Digestible pill of ugly normalcy
I’m about as real as you are
Which is to say, real by belief alone
We are both someone’s prophetic muse!
Do we exist? I’ve tasted this before.
Again and again
But no
This one is stronger
This one is real
A reliquary attempt to propagate
A primitive need
How I envy you.
It was good to see you again,
I’ll cherish these moments
And instinctually mentally masturbate to them
Ritualistically, without want
Because my mind wants so many things
All at once
But this is the here and now
And I don’t want to die.
Let’s do this again next week.
I miss missing you.”
No comments:
Post a Comment