Every time i think
I have a vice grip on life, my life slips like
Feet on black ice like a knife slicing
My umbilical cord a new chord
There is another mountainous face
In it’s place
Impatient it stares and awaits me to try
With new thoughts and feelings and
Eyes
That I do not understand and the
Feeling that I am running out of time for
Different phases of crowfoot eyes or
Dilated pupil elation or grasping dark clouds that consume or condemn me
Before spitting me back into churning
Black seas and blackbirds stirred into teas that sing and lull me to sleep when I cannot find the strength to cry pulling shower curtains around me for shallow grave comfort a conduit or concert for corpses surrounded by feathers and
flasks and favours we ask
Running on fumes from the gas stove
That I asked you to light and
Different stages on which to
Drunkenly fall ■■■■ or fight from groped
Bruised and broken
To basking in sunlight applause with perfect pause or praise
Bittersweet broken teeth spit words wet with such ■■■■ that I spoke and I
Hope no one heard packed a suitcase incase I was not myself a
Nuisance or self indulgent in sadness i cover with maybelline and madness peeled plaster cast under nails that I chew on while waiting for
planned dinner disaster or ovation in which
I can seamlessly uncrease or cease to
Assist or exist in for sick stolen seconds that I carved out of leftover bones while I starved all night unable to find guilty
Stars to swallow me whole but I
Did the dishes
Mopped the floor damp for you
Darling I’ll be bitter about it
Tomorrow
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