Thursday, October 9, 2014

Command Form

A standing ovation to anyone
Whoever called me crazy, love
Is a fit I need the way I need vodka or whiskey-
Only ever straight up or on the rocks

I am living for the burn in my stomach
Bend me over
Make me cry

Light a candle in the center of my Empty


Separate bone from skin with my serrated
Edge phone calls
My throat whispers to my brain
Via old soup can, old wire
I've been popping all my speech bubbles like sores
Just to see what kind of green my disgust is

And my seismograph tongue creaks, connected
To my selectively mute esophagus

I am an umbrella opened in the hall
My heart is the mirror you can't stop breaking
I'm not the kind of daydream that will hold you on Christmas-
Eve, or otherwise



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