A Ten-foot pole of Gratitude
If I could manufacture the thought that verbal interaction
With your cyborg-stare would at all initiate a molecule of humanity
To permeate from the sheath of smeared on, caked on, robot arms
Excrement façade of cement, hard core, closed-door femininity extinct
And past the brink of conversing,
I would thank you.
For every measure of censure you have demanded to exterminate our being
A duality of concern, suffocating my half of this body
Like a limp conjoined fractured starter-kit of appendages of one leg and pale skin
Dried black and eaten away by fungus among your partitioned fairy tales
Those steak knives held to my throat gilded and dulled
To my patience static next to your bastard throne
And for all these indulgences
I would thank you
For my life has never been happier
To know who you really are
To not have to waste fifty years on your train-wreck of an emotional core
Balled-up and crunched-in sweltering steel and scraped paint, melting my dreams
Under your burden of pleasing your parents and hick-town
I am on my own and proud to be, proud to be, proud to be, the minority
You can have your pedestal-stance and every jaded glance
I will forage in these dumpsters for fresh herbs and Greek salad greens
This world is so much better than what I have seen
With you in all those Sundays burning to please an un-pleaseable beast
Lurking beneath your judge of a soul, pouring out your frustration
For everything you are incapable of addressing in public like drizzling acid shampoo
On all that I do in private and I am so glad to be past
The speed bump that you have become
I would thank you
With this ten-foot pole of gratitude and say
That I have found my way on my own and into her arms
With a love exponentially better than anything you have offered me
In your oceans of non-appreciation drowning your dead fish-fuck faces
I may throw a festival in your honor that all this would not be possible
Like a fog clearing to your lack of structural integrity
No comments:
Post a Comment