pseudopomohomoverse

bitterness about the same boy, part I

here we go again, crack boy.
when your passing glance
puts the fear of God in me,
that is sad.
death, terrorism, the apocalypse in general
they don't do that.

i hate what you represent
slightly more than i hate you.
i hate being crumpled up
like a piece of paper with three words
scratched out.
i hate that i've had more fun
getting into car accidents
than when i'm reminded of you.

every time my mind takes a shit
you fall out
and every time i get flushed
i drain towards you
and i'm sick of this
masochistic spiral.

my eyes saw you holding scissors
above a marionette's head
when your eyes only saw
empty liquor bottles
and magically disappearing
white powder lines on tables.

you were probably only guilty
of having as much sense
as a kitten.
and i, well,
as much as a ball of yarn.

yes, being unraveled reminded me
how to live.
it'd be nice though if your name
(the most common in the english-speaking world)
didn't remind me how to die.

posted by Danny Boy @ 12:19 AM