I was the asshole
this time
I sent her away,
marriage, children, the cliché
Could not compete
with my anxiety
Hunger to be alone
Like I have some
exclusivity on being the disavowed
In a contract with
my ego as some pathetic synthetic emblem of a writer
Devouring warmed
tins of macaroni eighth-grade notes
From girls written
in purple ink about how I changed
And no more making
out for the one time in a decade
To feed that beast
to scribe tomes of alliterated metered vomit
Churning into
sophomore flirtations with heroin heroines
Swimming with dyed
hair and jostling bosoms
Who could never
make practice and stories of divergent Friday nights
Theater and
anti-matter prom dates stitching singular experiences
Into standard
bearers to cobble boots to traverse the expanse
Mountains cast
shadows, but are not necessary with closed eyelids
Playwrights
awarded for tragedy in summer dreams
Lover slaying
lover with gun and tongue
Neither can live
while the other exists splattering orgasms to blot out the ink
Seeing memories
like genetic equations of need and want
Here for a
nanosecond
What do we do in
the yactosecond when we realize we are here?
Irrelevant
mutterings in graffiti sonnets and diarrhea tweets
Posturing and
proposing fear and love
Wine and water
coloring in squid black vertebrae volition
To uphold that in
this glimpse one chooses another wholly
Knowing
termination as stars collide into impetus and carve jet chasms
Beyond event
horizons of infinite gravity
That when
dissected is a particle attracting another
Exponentially
announcing decisive collaboration
Worlds birth,
beat, and perish in such operas
In the business of
focus
Choosing love or
fear; life or nonexistence
It is not when,
how or if the exit, but the tread worn on our cobbled illusions
Won’t you play with
me dear love, before gravity catches me once more?
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