Disclaimer
I am about to embarrass myself
But my psychotherapist recently advised me
To avoid repressing uncomfortable feelings
And strive to disentangle myself from them
Through constructive catharsis
Something about keeping
My blood pressure down
You know, I’m quite close
To my mid-thirties now
And I need to start thinking
About these kinds of things
I have made one such attempt here
Which you will likely judge
To be in poor taste
And based on an esoteric definition
Of “constructive”
In brief, with apologies
I’ll make a mountain of this molehill
One last time
The blood ritual could not be undone
So we cut our losses
Serenades and razor blades
Convalescence, trite clichés
Chemistry like lightning
From trembling fingertips
And nothing to offer but air
But we turned up the music
Assumed our positions
I kept my composure
But couldn’t keep my distance
And I
I drank your poison like your angel blood
But I guess “you’re so good”
Didn’t quite mean good enough
I thought we would live forever
I thought we would live forevermore
It’s only me, it’s only you
Tangled wires and dangling drip bags
Jet black hair and choking smog
Darkest sacrament
A self-fulfilling curse
Seraphic tragedy
Mend your broken wings with safety pins
I purged your pixellated curvatures
But the mildew I only see
Out of the corner of my eye
Wouldn’t wash out
So I named it after you
My Angel of Death
Death of what
Exactly?
What died, and where?
Can you point to it?
Plausible deniability is the weapon of choice
Of every coward from here to the Potomac
You wield it poorly
And always struck me as one
Of more bespoke taste
So why don’t you
Strike me harder next time?
Hit me harder next time
Hold me, scold me
Save me, scathe me
Oh my God
Breathe me, bleed me
Fuck me, kill me
I don’t care
I don’t need you
I consummated our love with my right hand
And a baggie of ket in my left
Because I am, as you say
Mentally and emotionally fucking unstable
I often think about what you said
That I’d get everything I wanted
And you’d end up alone
Did you?
I often think about what you said
“Nobody’s ever looked at me
The way that you are now”
I said, “Think you could get used to it?”
You did
This town, burdened with our failures
Wasn’t big enough for us
It’s only me, it’s only you
Only me, it’s only you
Angel present
Pattern blue
Pattern fucking blue
The way your hair fell past your cheekbones
The way the light changed as the sun came down
The way that the blood trickled down my arm
The weight of your palms on my hip bones
I never washed your blood out of my mattress
I was always rather fond
Of the way you looked at me
When we were alone
Sometimes, I still
Catch myself wishing
I was alone in your room
With you
That’s love, I suppose
That’s love, I suppose
Always breaking before it bends
Before it bends
It’s only me
It’s only you
Be well
