Forgive me, love, for I have done…
low lights
—You cannot hide from me…
save your last breath to the antlers
just before the wolves eat them all.
these streets lead me nowhere
again.
sunlight has skinned me
again.
its warmth cannot keep me alive anymore.
I’m reckless
and stupid
and naïve
and regardless of this fear
I still have faith in you.
Angel, can you take me home?
They say you can lose the battle, but you will
always win the war. Not like you have an option, though. Half of your body lies
on cotton and grief and honey; oh, sweet honey that bubbles in the holes of
your skin like a volcano that silently revolts with no shame and shuts your
mouth with boastfulness… Praise the queen! May this crown of thorns be her
gravestone and last remorse! The other half floats over all of this gallimaufry,
aseptic, virgin, looking with disdain at the hell that awaits beneath you. You
can’t lose the war? what war? the one that depravedly ravishes your insides, filling
you with rage and an intangible yet excruciating pain? You can make up it or
you can make out with it, let the misery fuck that cute little face of yours
and color it mauve and black.
Your voice caresses me like a knife.
Come on out, come on out…
Won’t you just come back and let me lay my head
on your lap?
Won’t you just smother me with the pillow until
I fall asleep?
No more nightmares, no more ache, just tie the
knot around my neck
and watch me writhe at your feet.
I avow myself b r o k e n.
Why won’t you take me home?
