In college, I went on a date with the son of my mother's coworker. I couldn't remember if his name was Jason or Justin, so I spent the entire night maneuvering my way out of saying his name. He was ... [+]
I sat at my typewriter and I cut
open my fingertips. Testification
often called hemophilic literature.
Yes I’ve only got one life -
but will it cover the expenses?
Will it cover systemic expenses?
I’m one of them whose teeth grind
as I wonder who is looting who.
These keys that I play on, perverse
and yet so delightful.
I’ve only got one life
I can’t cover the expenses.
I keep biting their nails,
trying to breathe. Chewing that glass
that breaks my teeth and hides
my speech...indefinitely.
I march til I collapse, concealed
from the light. Left and right mix
as if one & I remove the dead ribbon...
indefinitely. In darkness I find
my fingers sticking to the keys and
come dawn I find I have created
fire; blood and rage within my city.
I’ve only got one life
I can’t cover these expenses.
I’m breaking down, I keep
Biting those nails and taking a knee.
Biting those nails that break
my teeth but can’t quiet my speech;
ne’er eternity.
I sat at my typewriter before years
of soiled sheets. The evidence is clear
this system tinder must burn.
It’s an addiction I possess...
indefinitely.