Saturday, March 16, 2013

we huddled in a catholic school bathroom stall
comparing cuts like baseball cards.
we were gluttons for sickness- furious with one another for their weakness 
and jealous at any wounds wider than our own.

they were cigarettes.

and i was a master of myself,
i was the best- i was
magnificent.

pretty girls fell in love with my destruction.
the car crash, the charred hulk frame
of absolute metal hollow; something that once was but is 
no longer there.
there are things that i do not tell to anyone 
like how i trace myself and the fibrous tissue weighs me down more than i pretend 
that it does and 
i talk of this to people but i do not feel it anymore and i do not know why that is. 

on tuesday nights i occasionally 
smell hot heavy blood.
in it's torrents, in it's mass quantities, i see a
sewer pump draining, i see 3 and a half ruined
towels[veins].
i bet they were rust-red in the washing machine and i bet my mother
cried into her crinkled hands.


the noose broke so we turned into branches and leaves and wonderful things of
green. 
the roots formed of their own accord and 
i am no longer magnificent,
yet they still think i'm the best.
depression is an excess and happiness is a void of
misery.
the most overwhelming empty.
i am a radient vacancy. 

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