mar 24, 2024
this time of the year always reminds me that I was supposed to die years ago
early spring, a homesick echo of my ghost,
the fragments etched into your earnings page
pins sticking pins in the head, needles crawling down all of your frail limbs, muscle chewing itself instead,
you stop to wonder who passed down the urge to bite
this time of the year always reminds me
my heart is weak, how it's been custom made
and he will lose his name when my arms fade back to a human shade
I don't know how I'm still breathing, thank my dead brother, guardian of diseases,
who fucks you and leaves you, fucks you and leaves you,
sore twice in a week, forgiven in a day
Mother-son begs my mercy, and I beg her to evacuate,
let my skin cool and my head settle,
hands palms bruise ears when angels bellow
until god screams "mind the fire,"
and you run to blood lover's grave