4.15.26
Everything is sterile now
sanitized and numb
safe and clean
you love like
the shoreline and the sun
the moon pulls on the ocean
whatever, whatever.
Store bought mass produced messaging
slightly reworded
so unique and difficult
in the crowd of eight billion.
I love like a starving vulture
seeing a fresh corpse
the dead
keeping alive the living.
I am made of spite
better than
because of
whatever, whatever.
a lie doesn't matter
if you never say it outloud.
I can feel my feet ache
before I put on my work shoes
you dress for the job you want
but mostly you dress for the humiliation
of never knowing what you want.
writing is the only bridge
between the dead and dying
I was trying to tell myself
I still want to talk
and you were telling me about
your stuffy nose
I'm going to deep throat
everything of you I can
seperate the skin from bone
and expose you
before the soil and worms get to
because what's buried
is what stays safe
and I can't love
what's alive
I'll be first
to lose
and confuse loss
for value
I loved you
like the humiliation
of not being whole
and pretending something broken still works
because no one would test or want it
and you can keep up a lie proudly
when it's never proven wrong
I love like a starving vulture
meaning I don't
hunger isn't passion
survival isn't commitment
the dead
don't do anything
the living
do all the work
and I am fucking poor.