and now for something completely different

[mercuriazs]

... Dammit Josh.


Maybe later I'll feel better and maybe later I'll be logical
but for now I am a boat with no bottom,
I'm a prophet with her head cut off
and gushing obscenely on your meticulous carpet.
Girls like me they keep locked in the attic
and pray we don't burn the house down,
me with my frail rage and my instability
that is almost artful, almost picturesque,
the tangled hair and mouse-bones
on my breath.

I have carried you around my neck, a millstone
or an albatross;
I did indeed do the deed that all women should shun
and having dug my nails into you like my grave
I guess all that's left is to lie in you--
you lag behind me like a lead balloon,
bitterness and memory.
I do not feel like a girl anymore
but like something washed up on the beach
with pallid and useless flesh;
mine may be a bourgeois concern
but it's the only one I've got
and the knowledge of its smallness is not enough
to propel me past it. (I wish I could banish you
like a vampire or a bad ghost,
but you always were too mundane for
pentagrams and garlic.)

Honestly where I want you is at the bottom of the ocean;
where I want you is in my bed.
Even now when the echoes have faded,
and the bright things have come to confusion,
and I am the only one with a seashell at my ear

pretending I can hear your voice.