chimera
Just as I am sure that any woman who wears a Sleater Kinney shirt is queer, I am sure Jealousy between lovers is a (war) game. A circular fight for validation on the foundation of fear. Stoke the fire to prove the existence of oxygen while forgetting that fire is destructive (allbeit hypnotizing), it sears and blisters indiscriminately. The warmth is the smoke of forced assurances. (Someone should have reminded us/you/me that you can't keep smoke, it's too thin.) The scars will make you unable to feel anything.
I am better now. I think. But it's too late. Oxygen is out to lunch. Oxygen shares a bed with another.
Oxygen spills out of the ozone like a crack of the skull. My skull, brains everywhere. Unoxydized arcs of it spilling out the unforeseen constellations of breaths never taken (but anticipated). A lifetime of them.
Oxygen burns the fingertips of memory but leaves the ghost of touch in the hall.
This is how you heal right?
I am better now. I think. But it's too late. Oxygen is out to lunch. Oxygen shares a bed with another.
Oxygen spills out of the ozone like a crack of the skull. My skull, brains everywhere. Unoxydized arcs of it spilling out the unforeseen constellations of breaths never taken (but anticipated). A lifetime of them.
Oxygen burns the fingertips of memory but leaves the ghost of touch in the hall.
This is how you heal right?