literature

skeleton love, closeted for health (#25)

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Published: Apr 26, 2015

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Literature Text

running away from oceans,
with my blood lining the reunion
of water and the shore,
my life is a predestined
recording of mistakes
and fuck ups.

new york, new york
imagery of excellence
my petulance confused
and heaven sent
because god tests
his toughest soldiers--
if you believe that.

i believe it i suppose
if i'm supposed
to be good enough
for the afterlife,
but i feel small enough
to disappear from this
small faux-tryst.

she was never real,
i was never healed,
i was never real,
she was never healed.

i bleed into relations
until the crust
lines stillness
like the aftermath
of waterfalls pushed
from clinched eyelids.

new york, new york
am i lowly in the shadow
of your prestige
or am i a small fish
wide-eyed ready to head dive
into your big sea?

i don't know anymore
'cause this had direction
and it lost all its shit
because i lie everyday.

i lie all the time.

i'm not being real
just because i'm partially skilled
in putting words together
in a clever way,
but wit(h you)
doesn't last forever.

so let's get real:
i probably didn't feel
what i thought i felt
or maybe i did feel it
because i knew it
wasn't real.

what do i feel now?
longing and it's not for you
but it's for two.

do the math,
it's the second
and i want that to last
before i blast
my elephant gun
into my brain
where the memories
never seemed to fade.

but i guess that
means love
or some other
form of insanity.

i'm young
and i'm fleeing this round
because i don't belong
in this town;

i'm burying my dreams
underground,
contort the bones
until my fingers
poke from the soil
so you know
it's always been you
i was reaching for.