Sifting through old memories
is like embracing a dirty bomb
as you cling tight and are torn
by velocity and violence
made from scraps in the basement
the damp spaces of your skull
where mushrooms grow
and other things that feed on the dead
I think to myself how it’s come to be
this time and space
this other ness
this beyond strangers
chill between us
I delight that it’s like this and not other.
Because I’ve been in that other place,
and that other place SUCKED.
That other place was confused and wished lies could be truth
That potential could be future
That past could be a bad dream
that grey could be pink
and that you just might think
that what fucked up things were between us
might actually have been your fault more than mine
So that I could sleep well again at night.
Like I used to before we met.
Oh but, that’s all past shit, let me tell you.
Let me tell you what’s up now, sugah.
Let me tell you what’s real.
You?
You ain’t it.
Oh my eyes,
spit
on
by ‘
Jesus,
could not be clearer on this.
So I ask for something more.
Redemption is it?
No.
Forgiveness is it?
No.
Grace and peace?
No.
Well maybe, a little bit of it if I knew that you
were really a human after all
and not something to torture me and tear me up
Like I was a shaft of wheat blowing in the breeze
waiting to be torn up and plowed by you.
It’s come to that point, you know.
Where truth is like sifting for diamonds
In a dirty alley full of broken glass
And regardless if the shiney
is precious or shit
It still makes you bleed from sunday to sunday.
The following monday
I say stop.
And fuck if…
Well, it does.
Easy as all that, who’d think that was right.
To flip a switch of your opnion like someone else’s corrupt alliance
on some fucked nbc reality bullshit.
And was it worth anything?
Oh no.
Not at all. Just…
Just.
yeah.
Just.
yeah.
…
Just.
Like that.
Poof.