I could say I’m adopting a persona
To write things I’d never have the courage.
Just enough alone to formulate
The idea that the purpose is to write
With a Crayola marker of truth.
But the truth is I’m nothing without
Dishonesty
And you’re nothing without
Brass arrogance carved into your skin.
Take your venom vitamins.
Send them your love, with a side of anthrax,
Presuming you’re as tangible
As the tallest glass, the empty bottles
On the curb from the night before.
Before I know it, there you are again.
It’s the cadence held in our beats
Isn’t it?
That turns my growing fatigue into
Complete lung atrophy.
The fact that our salacity is
Being taken in by the breaths of
Algae and the momentum of it cauterizes
Young flesh. Trepidation runs
Down my spine, like the communication
Between a pair of green iris’
Reviewing the situation.
I can only hope this
Is god’s greatest conspiracy theory,
God knows what would happen
If you were my “meant to be.
I’m ready to give up my endocrine
System to the human organ trade.
Permission granted to harvest
Adolescent hormones that I find so
Darn humorous.
Their systems are rejecting.
Apparently, Type asshole blood
Takes more than Rogam to aide.
I’m happiest when your drunk mouth
Has bruised these foundations
Enough for an effigy to last years
I’ll burn down these insecure
Bridges if I have to, again and again.
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