posthu-mouse-ness

post-human-mess On-Spectrum+Off-Key

[posthu-mouse-ness]

"Don't you dare ever fucking happen to me again."

[posthu-mouse-ness]

On-Spectrum+Off-Key

[posthu-mouse-ness]

Man bleating

Woman pleading

Children fleeting

Man beating

Woman bleeding

Children feeding

[posthu-mouse-ness]

Man bleating

Woman pleading

Man beating

Woman bleeding

In their bedrooms

Children feeding

Taking it in like the sponges

They are; it becomes just...

What they are made of

They don't bend and sway

They're brittle, they'll break

And their roots are the noose

We refuse to see

[posthu-mouse-ness]

I'll never know why he picked me I aint got nothing anybody wants to see I aint pretty my vocabulary is fucking gritty and now I know what Michael Jackson meant when he sang for everyone to just leave him alone my outlook is shitty but save me your pity cause I'm definitely gonna fucking need it

[posthu-mouse-ness]

Rejecting that which no longer serves me

Cutting off all this dead weight

For sanity and vanity

I refuse to become hate

It looks so ugly on my face

But my anger warms my soul

Lights up the whole damn place

There's no corner there's no hole

To hide the things trying to get near

Only rest, no more fear

In the me-heat all the night

And the subtle shift of things setting right.

[posthu-mouse-ness]

A blazing heart

Who laughs at farts

And shared philosophies

Who doesn't mind

I'm not the kind

Who's ever going to be

A trophy

[posthu-mouse-ness]

It's like he's

Eating what's wrong with me

And always wants to be sure there's enough

[posthu-mouse-ness]

I'd like to be like Florence

But I don't have a Machine.

She might be

The only one I'll see

Who dances just like me -

Not for decoration,

For emphasis; physical oration.

Her voice pulls

At the scream my heart never learned to let out

[posthu-mouse-ness]

The shape of an ignorant blanket today.

[posthu-mouse-ness]

It's a cycle of abuse.

He looks like a hero;

Took me in.

Well I got trapped,

And the rest is

HIStory.

I'm not abused.

No. Just

Ungrateful

Burdensome

Dishonest

Freeloading

Ugly

Fat

A whore

Unworthy

    Of the truth

    Of consideration

Worthy

     Of ridicule

     Of assault

Not to be believed.

Not to be believed against strangers and criminals, or protected from them. Left to suffer the trauma and the rubbed-in salt of not being believed.

It's okay.

Hit me.

It's okay,

My parents will invite us to dinner.

We will all go.

I will be feeling jittery

Hyper and gassy.

Nervous.

Anxious.

I will remind myself

That I am crazy

And that that's why I feel that way,

That's why I can't stop talking -

The silence feels like a preamble to disaster.

My instincts are telling me something

I can't face yet.

My guts roil

My heart pounds

Why am I such a weak person?

Why am I

Ungrateful

Burdensome

Dishonest

Freeloading

Ugly

Fat

A whore

Unworthy

    Of the truth

    Of consideration

Worthy

     Of ridicule

     Of assault

Not to be believed?

I deserve to be assaulted.

He sits across the room

The fruit of my womb

Loved and treasured

Adored and praised

By the people who know me best

And who know what he's done.

If I didn't deserve to be assaulted

They'd be supporting me.

Right?

[posthu-mouse-ness]

It's just heartbreak

Nothing that I can't take

I don't want it if your love's fake

Cut and run, it's for my sake

[posthu-mouse-ness]

It is what it is we are who we are we do what we do and whatever happens happens

[posthu-mouse-ness]

We're all from there, once.

[posthu-mouse-ness]

I rock back and forth almost without stop. I think of myself as a pendulum, and I do swing between these two thoughts. But the metronome is FAR more apt a description than pendulum.

Plus, the word association of it:

Pendulum + my brain = my droopy, aged (but still loveable) boobs.

Metronome + my brain = Kurt Cobain once described Dave Grohl as a human metronome for his incredible timing and fills.

So, metronome I am. Keeping the beat of the fast and uneven days.

[posthu-mouse-ness]

Fat grubs

Curled tight as overcooked shrimp

Pained by the light

You've been uncovered

No longer may you grow and fester unseen

The light of the world

The air of the talk

Will desiccate you

Your networks

And your deeds

Your fat

Is the excess of things

Others are dying without

If we could gut you

For sustenance

Somehow take back

The resources that were ours

Just by opening you up

To let them fall out

We would

But we can't

So we sharpen our blades

Our teeth

And plot the day

We gut you for justice

[posthu-mouse-ness]

Winter recedes

Not like a hairline

But a riptide

It *was*

That unexpectedly rough wave

That knocks one over from behind

As you stood

Knee-deep in the surf

Waving back to your friends on dry sand

Now it has you

Wants to drag you down

To its lightless

And flattening depths

If you want to survive

You must swim

It uses your efforts against you

Exhausts you

No one can tell that you're struggling

Drowning is silent

Everything is snow.