Wish it would stop.
Watch the laundry spin and then sit on a box.
circular sleep. daydream while I cry.
kill me at dawn, sing silent night –
no. hum at my grave
dig me up. stop. then kiss my remains
skeletons out of the closet.
my bones here to stay
shapeshifting gravediggers.
I’m barely awake
you talk me alive, I sleep when I yawn
told me to keep eyes closed three eternities long
so she goes again, another fish in the sea
another piece of driftwood breaking off into pieces
tailbaiting freshwater species. as he hums Für Elise
you don’t mean something to me.
just need something to break
defensive in particular.
relationship balled into shape
from wheatgrass, liquor, deafness and argument’s sake
my wedding vows will start off in malaise
“afraid my depression will slowly degrade you”
in love and in sickness, in health, and inept
sugarcoat your love with your honey-colored flesh
otherworldly sex, Martian soil beneath ourselves
who am I kidding. selfish stargazer lost in himself
probably would decline if you offered me help
I feel how an author thinks when he writes in italics.
how? a quiet whisper while being slightly sarcastic
half winter, springtime, March solstice
Mars rover, enzymes. black liquor
God sold us. paths shrinking.
bedtime pillow talk, fact checking.
more liquor store drifting.
4.50. 6 oz flask dangled in sleeve
use disease to reprieve from society as a daily retreat.
we’ve become emotionless whatever we do.
staring at art, until they tell me to leave.
come back the next day to stare on repeat.
maybe it’s me.
dissecting something that doesn’t exist.
in matrix – a glitch. in reality, Suboxone
coffee-stained marital strips
we go back to a time. nostalgia is a hell of a safety net.
there’s always black liquor here at my side.
The Stargazer and the Black Liquor: A Poem of Cosmic Despair
