the absence of eloquence with time hastily borrowed

I lay awake.
a thousand thoughts like spider webs, growing ferrous crystals,
I see them, brown, ferrous, and heavy, electroplated by the sick
by the sixteen hour days half-awake, and eight half-asleep
all my life has been a vision of mediocrity.

I lay awake at night, in poison, around poison
until I am so saturated that every exhalation is poison
every touch is hard and cold
every stare is lidless and listless
until a cold full moon cleanses me
reaching deep behind my retina and finally plucking the last few strings
straining tendons, holding tight
a social straight jacket
made to condition and break, ironically
into forms every more crooked.

I lay awake for the first time since I can remember.

I lay awake sweating napalm and vitriol
in domino shifts, night and day, a thousand white crosses
paint peeling the names out of me, wracking me
twisting and quartering, sandblasting and bandsawing
a rush of everything wrong, flipping nails
bending ribs, snapping and straining
vocal cords arisen, echolocating with blood spatter
pinpricks on the ceiling tiles I've counted so many times
but the number hasn't ever even mattered
in disdain i shed these cataracts, feel pain turn to lead
and lead burn into gold
and myself following suit 
as all good alchemists do.

the medicine's worn off.

I lay awake and here it comes
a tidal wave so vast, so impossibly high that it appears flat
vectors approaching infinity in every direction, as through a telescope we might guess
at the size and depth of a black universe
a deep, black pitch, tumbling forth in froth and fervor
chased out of my own skin, the newly sharpened
and honed bones of my skeleton.

here it comes, oh god
here it comes, in awe
a crashing wave of dog's blood and misspent, downcast minutes
shame following nature
life imitating art
destroying and tumbling, snapping me awake
heart pounding, dizzying heat
spilling forth the skim, the scum, the vile
the bullshit I've let grow deep into my galls
my gills, now spills forth
crystals pushed out of my skin
these sieve-sleeves not for the faint of heart
pain tumbling headfirst into pleasure
oh fuck
oh fuck here it comes

I lay awake (I am strewn everywhere)
I lay awake (i aM sTREwn EVERYWHERE)
I LAY AWAKE (IM A FUCKING MESS)
YOU REPLACED ME
I REPLACED MYSELF

I LAY AWAKE WILLFULLY POISONING YOUR HONEYMOON PHASE
MISERY LOVES COMPANY AND SHARING NEEDLES
STICK WITH ME KID, THE HARDER I BITE THE CLOSER YOU ARE
I LAY AWAKE HIDING, PUSHING AND STRIVING TO QUIT SOAKING PHOTOS OF YOU IN LAMENT AND ANNOUNCE IN A MEGAPHONE HOW LITTLE I CARE
HOW LITTLE I CARE 
HOW LITTLE I CARE; 
ITS ARMOR, BRITTLE AS CHRISTMAS AND SEETHRU AS GLASS 
AAAAAAHHHHHH FUCK YOUUUUUUU (this part is best announced while crying so hard you're laughing while crying so hard you're laughing while crying so hard you're laughing while crying so hard you're laughing while crying so hard you're laughing while crying so hard you're laughing while crying so hard you're laughing while crying so hard you're laughing while crying so hard you're laughing while crying so hard you're laughing while crying so hard you're laughing while crying so hard you're laughing while crying so hard you're laughing while crying so hard you're laughing while crying so hard you're laughing while crying so hard you're laughing )

LL JUST A PILE OF PIECES, LESS SUBSTANCE, MORE GLUE
A PILE WHAT'S OF ME, A PILE WHAT'S OF YOU 
CRASHING AND INSISTING, SUBSISTING ON RUE
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH FUCK YOU FOR FINDING ME 
FUCK YOU FOR FINDING ME 
FUCK YOU FOR FINDING ME AS HARD AND FAR AS I COULD RUN
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH FUCK YOUUUUUUU
DRAGGED ACROSS DIVORCE-TROPHY CARPETS 
SHARK-SKINS BOUGHT IN BULK, MY FAVORITE COLOR
JUST TO DENOUNCE ME TO YOURSELF
AN ECHO THAT I'LL NEVER HEAR
BUT JUST IN CASE I DO
FUCK YOU

YOU TALKED TO ME ABOUT CHEM TRAILS AND VINYL
THE WORLD IS DEAD
YOU WOKE ME UP TO TRADE SEX FOR SOMEONE TO HOLD YOU
AND I WANTED NEITHER
I JUST WANTED TO SLEEP
I JUST WANTED TO BE AWAY FROM YOUR SMELL
THE ITCHING TRIGGER FINGER OF WHAT MADE ME REALIZE
BENEATH THAT BUTCHER'S CURTAIN OF CONNECTION
EVERYTHING IS JUST ANOTHER FUCKING LIE
EVERYBODY'S FUCKING FAKING IT
AND IF I DIE I'D ROT AWAY 
WHICH IS UNFORGIVEABLE
WHICH IS UNFORGIVEABLE
WHICH IS UNFORGIVEABLE
IM NOT SORRY IM MADE OF SUCH FRAGILE FLESH
CORED WITH SUCH HARD SCAR TISSUE
SUCH DAMAGE THAT YOUR BRAND DIDN'T FEEL SO SPECIAL
THOUGH I NEVER POINTED IT OUT
IM NOT SORRY YOU STEPPED ON ME
DIGGING IN YOUR ICE PICKS TO CLIMB OVER TOP
INSISTING THAT YOUR 3AM WAS EARLIER THAN MINE
WHEN I CALLED YOU AT THE END OF THE KNIFE
AND IT WAS JUST A DIAL TONE
IT WAS JUST A DIAL TONE
THE LOATHESOME, ANALOG FOGHORN
SPIRITUAL TENDONITIS 
THE MASCOT FOR WAKING UP IN A PILE OF YOUR OWN PUKE
THAT LOOK OF PITY FOR A WEAKNESS
IN A CROOK LIKE ME
A WRETCH LIKE ME
WEAK ENOUGH TO BEND TO YOU
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHG FUCK YOU

YOU BELONG BURIED IN A THOUSAND GRAVES
DEEP AND DARK AND ALONE
CARRIED INTO SOLITARY BY THE NOR'EASTERN
FUCKING BULLSHIT IVY FUCKING WORDS
FOR THE COLD WINDS THAT BROUGHT YOU CLOSE TO ME
MY HARBOR
UNTIL WE RAN AGROUND AND I COULDN'T FIGHT YOU OFF
SHACKLED TO THE FRONT WHILE YOU BOARDED FOR THE NETHERLANDS

I DON'T NEED THIS SHIT
I DON'T NEED THIS SHIT
I DON'T NEED THIS SHIT
YOU LOST ME WHEN YOU DRAGGED ME TO MEXICO
YOU CUT OFF MY HAIR
YOU CLIPPED MY WINGS
I PARTICIPATED IN THE THINGS YOU COULD AFFORD TO PROTEST
SO YOU COULD AFFORD TO PROTEST THEM
SOLD MY PIANO AND MY PENS TO BUY WORKBOOTS
MY HEART GOT FAT AND OLD AND BALD BENEATH
THE ABRASIVE STACK OF COLLARS THAT STARTED 
TO CHASE ME THE FUCK AROUND
a stack of reports a stack of papers a stack of numbers a stack of passwords a stack of
GUYS WHO DON'T CARE
MEN AND WOMEN WAITING FOR THE WEEKEND
SHOVELLING MORE FUCKING WORK ONTO MY PLATE
SO I CAN LIMP THOUGH TIL HOME
WHERE MY DINNER THAWS IN THE SINK
AND YoU
You
you
you haven't been for days

but you write me post cards.

'do it for her.'
do it for her

wish you were here
knowing the circle of hell
made of duct tape and pried eyes
was built for two
and i just broke out.

don't read this

◄ feignt (1/18/2016)

Captain Hook 0617 (01/25/2016) ►

Comments

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John Bastard

Mon 25th Jan 2016 13:05

it's often that I'll sit on jagged feelings that don't fit into nicer words. then they come out like a blunderbuss.

there are times where patience is too short a rope to link understanding and empathy, and I need to stop carrying so many fucking skins. There are times where I just need to be selfish for ten minutes and shed them. Alcohol and self-made promises are tethers too poor to stop the warehouse collapse of self-neglect.

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Stu Buck

Mon 25th Jan 2016 10:11

whoever she is, she just got burnt...

its so nice to see such a lack of restraint in a poem. often people hold back, you can see it (actually pinpoint in a poem where they wanted to scream but instead just whispered) but here you just fucking went for it. its reminded me of what can be done when we give up on a pretense and shoot fire from our fingers. i have been guilty in the past of holding back, even more so lately when i think ive tried to hard to be 'a poet' and not hard enough to write poetry.

chemtrails and vinyl. i know girls like that. they are nothing but trouble.

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