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(AKA, I like to think I'm clever) July, 2014

take the calendars from my closet

too many squares burned

gloss glowing red to the rhythm

of the clckclckclck

flintnsteel tango

 

and so many are scratched black

from when i borrowed your pens to write on my bones

but i couldn’t get the skin off

when i threw my wineglass at your portrait

i got so close

 

it dripped in the rivets

in the walls

rippled riverbed

more raw

for the fingernails torn

that i stapled to the pages

december through july

 

there are 18 in total

and most days can’t be read

most days aren’t library books

however on loan

most days are pulling tendrils

fermented filth from our throats

 

most days the sun sears apocalyptic

i suck the teat of an inhaler

"i was never good at breathing in"

my lungs feel like rubber bands

exhale and keep it together

Author's Note

This is really really rough and I feel like it needs a lot of trimming and development so if I could get feedback on what needs to go/what needs further development, that would be lovely.