Monday, July 12, 2010


Reveling in your tragedy
I found myself a crisis that fit
Seven year itch
I am finally breathing okay
I swear—smoke another cigarette baby
I know they’ll find a cure
For cancer or whatever else ails you, my dear
We duck down low
Fearing the apocalypse
Cuddled up in sheets
I wake up breathing fire and screaming
I wake up to the shrill sound of the alarm
I wake up with a time bomb in my chest
And I’m not sure how or when it will explode

We woke up so mad the other day
Your eyes were still wet from the night before
You were crying in your sleep
And I feel nothing but
The time bomb
In my chest
Tick tock ticking away
The days when you were mine
I kept you like a shell, right next to my ear—
Your breath , the ocean

You were so wild once—
Thought you’d met the calmer version of me
The one with the fangs
I keep locked up
Sweet talk the blues into my
Sweet talk the death kiss out of me

I was trying to get in touch with my old-self
The one I liked
The one who wrote poems and dyed her hair black
I wanted to write her a letter
I wanted to tell her to “get back—get back”—beatles style
I wanted to beat her up and tell her she’d end up with grey hair and gingivitis
But I began to feel sorry for her—
All the unrequited love—she feels
So sober and way less lovedrunk than expected
All the cobwebs that appear in place of her eyes
All the sorrow and the rainclouds in her heart
The princess telephone that no one answers
The way her hands feel for something in the dark
The way she will clutch at things that disappear
The way she will suck on poisonous fruit
The way her eyes will grow too tired
The heaving heaviness of her

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