vernal knoll
As the calendar thinned along with spring
taste buds turned stiff along with arteries
we went from taffy string to gasoline
burrowed deep in the cavity of a pharmacy
now walls peel ashen strips amid stale air.
Any advice, Doctor, for this old man?
What's ambition in a coward's grip?
I cornered the man in the mirror—
slit his dreams, drowned the bastard.
He haunts me still, wordless and pale.
Shove more Adderall, tumble further
my lips don't flinch, agape, they stay
they learnt that reason is a flutter
and life's a butterfly in nuclear winter
what's another coal down my spent throat?
Family has yet to find the corpse
when cops will bust down my iron door
they'll find my skinsuit laid on the floor
run through water what eyes can’t hold
blaming each other for my sleeves' holes.
Tell me, Doctor, am I a monster?
for I made rot of all the flowers
scoured the pulse in chase of thunder
spent days as change in nurse's lap
and I bed death like arranged spouse.
I—a sinner, warm-hand killer—
kneeling still at the needles’ altar,
beg forgiveness from all who held me,
all the friends' hands I left in the air
and my late-chosen, clueless mother.
Forgive him. Wash his name—
for it's his only wish left to beg.
dark python