The sickness

The romanticism.
The decline.
The denial.
The silence.
The mind games.
The wrong move.
The “you know what i’m thinking”
MY anger.
You idiot.
You fucking moron.
You could just ask normal questions.
Instead you build this hype around me.
Congrats, you made me agitated.
“people I’ve known in the past have been very blunt”
And I let you affect me.
And you were affected.
I imagine a play now.
Its exactly the relationship that happens in fight club.
My, to analyse that film.
Hot blooded.
Drugs and party.
Stress. Shame, regretting- simple thinking.
Constructs, un-liked.
And my eyes.
My feelings.
The shock.
My blurt.
My hurt.
Your stupid, torture of me.
Thank you for reminding me how people are the most dangerous thing.
The challenge, to pit yourself against another in a fair game.
We’ll strike me.
Strike this match.
my red nail of my thumb held up to you.
Everything I create I do so with the false face.
My touch of hand.
My crease of smile.
Only holds your attention for a short while.
All things permanent recede and waste.
The bitter taste,
Immune to toothpaste.
Getting high they said,
off to smoke and chill.
Forewarned, wary asking questions.
Truth and jealousy.
Immunity and fracking.
And how my mind regrets and boils-
hot prints in the snow, backtracking.

These boils, lumps and stitches.
Knots and dryness.
Sore back.
Stretched and slack.
Put upon the rack.
And burned, oiled and foiled.
My genuine feelings, safety and awkwardness.
I’ll play the coward now.
And that hug was a mistake.
Put it on ice they said.
And there’s a rink across the bridge.
Rainbows and unicorns.
Perhaps i’ll check it out-
as you begin to moan.
One rubber glove.
My sickness.
Wash, soap!
Rinse toothpaste.
Cut wrists.
Hanging from the roof.
Suffocating, the heat of room unnatural.
Fearless. Fuming. Lit.
And the dregs of society spawn.
And we are all that.
Unless we somehow find a way.
look at the door, in the abandoned trunk of a tree.
And find shelter from the tempest, on the horizon you might see.

Shaking hands and making a friend.
And zones and areas that cannot bend.
If once the barrier comes down.
Like mono brow’s calamitous frown.
And nothing we can ever mend.
And garden’s dry as desert’s end.
Blind we mask and cover eyes.
And feelings we should have disguised.
And masquerading nobility-
I regretted my honesty.

Because I wanted someone, close and normal.
And now its fucked, polite and formal.

I become uncomfortable, about sense and feeling.
All these pitched battled; wheeling and dealing.
It has me reeling, riotous with anger.
And Coriolanus would shame and hang her.

I trust with wallet, sound and fury.
Headphones in, look for another story.

I break my back,
And create the din-
We all mistook, what we took in.
Because my laughter is personal,
malpractical jury.
Sentence me with syllables.
My unknowable purity.

A dirty word.
Horrible to work with-
Purity I heard.

Nasty knives sure.
Blood-letting by shiv-
Shepherd without cure.

Curious natured slave
Wonton I not believe
Welcoming my grave.

Nasal, vocal praise.
Whole full of teeth.
Now darkness raise

In this disguise.
Pyres jumping rise implies.
…Blood stained teeth, and muddied thighs and a million why and all mean, men, women are guys. Rectifying highs, I despise, you as macdonald fries, social lies and lays and ways for blue jays to betray old and new ways. First place sickness, as if a prize. Rubbing together like tortoise infected with flecked salt and peeling skin. Wrinkled, cactus of old and morbid shell. You shall not hide from the fire. Boil and become soup. You sick pill of ill will and maladjusted scheme. No fitness in my mind have you, but a despondent unwieldy flummox. You broken trampoline. Alien phallus! Wicked garbage bag. Splinter!

Oh Sisyphus, what will tomorrow bring.

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