You are like the lizard green and cold
Tongue coiled inside a bacterial born mouth
heat and hate your only friend and rivers run from you in all directions
may you never see another Easter Sunday
another clear day over the valley, over the ridge of the back of your lover
as the sunlight creeps over a boat and it brakes the bowl of the crest of the earth
liar liar thief liar.
you are like the moon, asleep from the sun, huge sky spiders view and talk, snakes walk on your back and bathe in your huge cracks, speak with me my name Xavier Havier Javier how are you? with me my name Xavier Havier Javier how are you?
And flower the thought of this, dry clay pots that fester like your heart
Bacterial born valve
Your school desk, books and lamp
You are like the sand always falling through, never adding up
Cut words in sky like a saw
A wink of good will
Hollow in the crotch
Speak with me shirt, shoe and hair
Coins that wont dance
A laptop that wont go
Your mom
Your car
Your dad
Bead sheets and the seat you sit in when youre not at church
At church
At church
The seat you sit in is wood
Hard as oak under your ass
And the god you pray to laughs at your cunt
My cock
Your tits
Your smile
A thousand crack in the mirror
The way you move fast to take money
The shine of the sun on your heart
Hot and dark like your breath
A weak structure
I wish you the best sincerely
From the bottom of the lake where you lye in the glue of fearfulness, undiscovery and love
Big big take from little little
A boiled pot of water dripped over our liver
Money and time time and money
I wait like a fish in his tank
Low and silent for your next move
Your next curve your next race across the tank
Bullets and bombs
Electric and checks
Attorney and hate
Big big take from little little
Like you I am not
So I wait
My eyes wide for your next move
And the words that you speak fall like flakes of food from your hand
At church
At church
The seat you sit in is wood
Hard as oak under your ass
And the god you pray to laughs at your cunt"
that's one of those little details i always wished somebody would work into a poem/novel/song/something (the wetness women leave on seats). this just happens to be my favorite section of the poem, so i recopied the whole segment. i'm also betting this has something to do with the "false empowerment of women, especially on this site", which i agree with, but don't have the guts to say publicly (*cough* am (was quite close) friends with an sg, who in my opinion has always needed a lot of support, but whom i love dearly and am not willing to argue with about it). i'd be curious about hearing your ideas on the subject.
ironically, am listening to a song called "best sunday dress" on loop.
unconnected side comments:
it's hard to be the modern-day byronic hero.
legality inspires people lie because honesty in any sort of legal situation requires accountability. taking responsibility. ugh. it's disgusting. i just nearly got sued/had to sue some people recently and was thoroughly disgusted at the incidence rate of it. prod by, please.