I didn't belong to you

I belong to the misty haze around the moon
when the sky darkens and I haven’t slept for 48 hours.

I belong to the smoke that streaks from the end of my cigarette
when my head is empty because I haven’t talked to anyone all day.

I belong to the ambient sounds radiating from my speakers
of musicians devouring my soul and replacing it with theirs.  

I never belonged to you. I never belonged to anyone.



I needed you to be abstract
a concoction of double negatives
spilled on plots of graveyards without headstones
where I would sit to adore your memory
while listening to the ambient sounds
of lost souls regretting their choices

but you are simple to define
you are the weeping willow tree
in a artist’s discarded work
that was too mainstream
for the misogynistic art collectors
with eighteen year old kinks on the side

your challenges came with upside down answers
where my playing cards were matt black
and my tell was hidden in the trinkets
on my mothers shelves
protected by specks of poisonous dust
and my hard headed telekinesis.


withdrawals and indifference

darling, I need you like a bullet in the head
I could live without your civil attempts of consenting rape
when you grind your teeth it drives me mad
and I tick like a vibrating clock right off the edge of the table top
on the occasions you see past my mask of consideration
you suffocate, while breathing normally, on the atmosphere around you

sometimes I imagine you spiking my coffee with cyanide
on those days I would barely say anything because of constriction
and I hate it when you’d ask me if I was hungry  
I could count the things I’d eaten today on one hand
and your willowy form was number three
fold me into a lantern and set me alight; fold me up and let me die.