long time
elliot's closet was full of winter gear
and his head was full of sand,
sand from the sahara, from the kalahari, from the atacama.
elliot's nose was running yesterday
a faucet with knobs made of jello, of mayonaisse and of peanut butter.
elliot was green a week ago and blue two days ago but yesterday
he was green again, green like mold, like sweet nori, like go go go.
today elliot is gone and gone forever and all that's left is his smell,
on his socks on the floor, on the bed, on my pillow, on my skin;
his saliva in my hair, on my face, elsewhere;
his dead cells, gone before him, under my fingernails, in my nose, in my lungs.
elliot is everywhere today and i am nowhere.
i am moving in tandem with the earth, swinging with the planets and clinging to gravity.
i am fighting time, cancerous time, glorious time,
fighting it with a chewed fingernail and a bloody scream,
drowning in a sea of everything before me,
of my own chemical brain bearing down a triple diamond,
leaning to the left of insanity,
cutting to the right of giving up completely,
bearing down on my memory of elliot,
cold and limp on my floor,
a speck of dust on this merry-go-round the world and die,
merry go on and on and on,
and then...
elliot's face was full of blue
and i loved him and he loved me,
that clinging-to-hope feeling
that everything can't possibly just end,
but then it does and here I am,
wondering if i can search the closet for a pair of gloves,
because outside it is snowing and i will be cold,
i will be cold in the snow, white like fish, like stains, like cum.
white like knives, like fire, like my insides,
like water, like graves,
like elliot's goodbye.
and his head was full of sand,
sand from the sahara, from the kalahari, from the atacama.
elliot's nose was running yesterday
a faucet with knobs made of jello, of mayonaisse and of peanut butter.
elliot was green a week ago and blue two days ago but yesterday
he was green again, green like mold, like sweet nori, like go go go.
today elliot is gone and gone forever and all that's left is his smell,
on his socks on the floor, on the bed, on my pillow, on my skin;
his saliva in my hair, on my face, elsewhere;
his dead cells, gone before him, under my fingernails, in my nose, in my lungs.
elliot is everywhere today and i am nowhere.
i am moving in tandem with the earth, swinging with the planets and clinging to gravity.
i am fighting time, cancerous time, glorious time,
fighting it with a chewed fingernail and a bloody scream,
drowning in a sea of everything before me,
of my own chemical brain bearing down a triple diamond,
leaning to the left of insanity,
cutting to the right of giving up completely,
bearing down on my memory of elliot,
cold and limp on my floor,
a speck of dust on this merry-go-round the world and die,
merry go on and on and on,
and then...
elliot's face was full of blue
and i loved him and he loved me,
that clinging-to-hope feeling
that everything can't possibly just end,
but then it does and here I am,
wondering if i can search the closet for a pair of gloves,
because outside it is snowing and i will be cold,
i will be cold in the snow, white like fish, like stains, like cum.
white like knives, like fire, like my insides,
like water, like graves,
like elliot's goodbye.