one more time the earth orbits around the sun
the rain washes the grey city, the days melt into each other, the poems fade away quickly
i am a concept
this town like angels dying, these hands like silver scalpels always digging for something alive, these gunmetal bones
there is nothing left here
the world kills me or i kill it
only one of us gets to live
i am still here only by accident
bombs are falling around me
i want to laugh at this rotten world
i want to sing while this city burns
destruction is a form of creation
flowers for dinner, cigarettes for breakfast, the dishes in the sink
i am still thinking about drowning
am i insane?
i am retrograde
there is something living in my body
something dark and uninvited
that sleeps inside me in all its malignity
it feeds on what is left of my flesh
he is soft, he is loud, he commits homicides every night
he drinks all the whiskey, bangs his head in a corner
he lives quietly there, he never leaves
i am pale as petals
skin grey, skin blue, skin all the colors in the spectrum
i know the names of poisons, the names of handguns, the names of every fatal object in this house
charming, intimate Sadness that grabs me by the throat
she makes a mess of my bawling sentimentality
so grossly, so publicly
she wants to be my lover
i meant to write about Death
i meant to write about Love
i meant to write about something that transcends hunger
i never even wanted flowers
in my doorstep, in my kitchen table
i just wanted to be empty, vacuous
i just wanted to be able to float inside myself
i am nonsensical
i keep my sadness immaculate in a box under the cabinet
like Pandora, i open it continuously
i move from strangers' bed to bed, i cause repulsion to the ones i love, i write tipsy and meaningless poetry
i know Trauma, i have him as a friend
he has been tensing my muscles since my gutted childhood
he is here to stay
sweet-talk about loss, hatred
i hide the pills under my tongue
what am i?