seemly silhouettes, taking spaces, covetable tenebrosity, without liquor, so daring I can’t stop myself from staring, stunning beams, onliest, looking out for you, motile girls in shy skirts, everyone’s saying different things to me, the weight of miscellaneous, everyone’s deviant to begin with, louder gestures, larceny, smiles, smiles, smiles, adieu 05…
2:30a.m. – salty rusty taste of blood garroting the throat.
2.33a.m. – nobody is real, nobody is treating anybody right.
2.34a.m. – Diana, your mom’s calling me… turn off your call divert already, silly.
2.34a.m. – she kept calling and calling; 4 missed calls.
2.47a.m. – turning into some glittering amoeba. I really can’t stop it.
2.56.39a.m. – bitchy typos and dirty fingernails. I’ve seen them speak Kurdish.
3.03a.m. – clap your hands say yeah, “Gimme Some Salt”.
2.37a.m. – I miss the part about the hurt and indigestion; frailty. 5 missed calls.
3.12a.m. – how was the holidays? sleep, eat, party, pose, drink, fuck, sleep, eat, sleep?
4.21a.m. – nothing, just antibiotics.
4.22a.m. – I can’t feel my right jaw. it’s happening.
4.22a.m. – any kind of number.
4.22a.m. –
4.22a.m. –
4.22a.m. –
4 and a half a.m. – blood on the pillow, that salty rusty smell… how amateurish.
Slippery scarlet lips and the mints to mask intentions. I had white shoes on and my shirt tucked in, if they could impress. An empty wallet in my back pocket, I’m scared against this public of fancy clothes and alcohol. But you had a smile and that expensive perfume across your chest, you had plastic of gold and birds in holograms. I was your sidecar through your talking acquaintances, while you’re the semiprecious stone tied to some Tiffany’s silver; you’re worth the famine last Christmas. I was what you wanted them to notice; white shoes and my shirt tucked in. I put your smile on, excluding words, it fits. Quiet observant stabs of loathing gossips radiating but I’m so comfortable with your firm grip of my left arm. Let’s go home, my feet are killing…
Its after a year of waiting.
Nothing came. My foaming mouth. I’m still eating, I’m drunk, sleeping on the floor. And the reasons suggest checking my mails, to check the windows,
to check some females in the village. Nothing leads me. My covet words, silent, retreating, come back into my mouth. I eat them with chips and mayonnaise.
Linger. Linger. Linger. Linger. Linger. Linger. Linger. Linger. Linger. Linger. Linger. Linger. Linger.
Linger. Linger. Lingering.
She said she saw you, she said that you were there. As envisaged. Who is she?
She might be wrong. I might be mistaken. She might be lesbian again. Nothing to nothing. It’s my birthday but nothing
came.
Some angels tying ribbons on you. Lovely yielding cotton held together, darling. Lovely eyes sparkling, rarity. Lovely you to present me…
I’ll destroy my certainty just to have your baby. I’ll dress like a eunuch, and watch you from under the bridge. I’m not leaving, I’m just eating time. I’m so lonely, just waiting. Your lovely candy in gorgeous expressivity, you know you’re expensive. I’m putting you inside my head, in a malleable cage of erratic sour French love. After years, you’ll turn into a pulp and I’ll swallow you whole. I’ll swallow you whole.
I saw you burst through the corridor. I cried out, I cried you out. but you had your silhouettes chasing. don’t run too far… you’ll only see the pigmentation permeable pessimisms. the moment of a moving queen. the keys to the chemicals in your head. your celibacy is falling off tonight. I am a lamb in your locks, and I am not afraid to feel brilliant. either way you turn. your heart in tow. but you had your panel of experts trailing. don’t run too far…
If only we had more time to furnish these good conversations, to keep our eyes in, sitting down on compromises and sipping soup. Are you keeping your feelings tethered on wrong directions? While the body says no, the mind concludes that we should move on to the slow descend into keen undertones. I close my mouth, I put on my helmet, I went home. I’m sorry, but I’m indolent against these futile sentiments around my empathy. Maybe next time; threes or fives…
No one has ever said what the truth should have been. It feels like its prejudice, the anesthetizing fear of corollary. You’re resisting with the palm of your cheeks. You’re resting your defiance on your breasts. You’re deviating from deceit. Can’t you take it in? How could it feel this wrong? There’s nothing more you could articulate to yourself. It’s regardless; against moments. I’m pulling teeth against mellow doubts cause no one has ever said that the truth should have been this way. How could it be this wrong?
Try harder. Put on your own shoes. The burglary of my automotive interest. There’s so much shame; yours, they had to apprise. A report of no consequences. I needn’t need to know. You’re digging. Running out. You’re deluding yourself. Cut. Copy. Copy. Fraud. It seems so queer that your ears would always be one step behind. They told me, so I was curious. Have you been peeping? Mole. You disgust me. Repugnance. Now stop it, fuck off, let me disappear.
