from the pit of my stomach.

two pills
two stories
some maniacal preacher on a cocaine buzz in my brain
but he sounds so earnest
so try i'll and work it in somehow
get on your knees
and pray we can love you.
my eyes are big hazel zombies
put me to sleep or wake me up but don't ask me to sing for you
i won't.
there is a bell outside that won't stop ringing
among other horrifying things
"such a naughty girl"
with inklings to start forest fires and crash cars
to get numb and find any way out
make it easy on me or
i'll make it easy on me
i promise you won't feel a thing
at least i think you won't.
i make wordy diagrams but in the end
its not getting what you want and
not wanting what you get vs.
actually having something you wanted.
now you're a needle in the hay
i inhabited
i stood there, kerry. bruisy and reckless and loud and lovely,
i would kiss them all just because i could,
because i could make them feel things crowded with color, watch
i'd wake sleepers, rowdy and rough-housing, damp sweetnesses,
lots of alcohol and trumpet-tounged poetry, sad stories that loved me so good.
but now i need you
i need now, incubus.
i can't remember myself, i'm terrified and misplaced
time & air mobilize me like a puppet then casually throw me around
i handed over my world and wonder for a flimsy, shiny
tin-foil element that bends me
and brings me left and lost and empty.
it's like, the pain was muscular and trustworthy
but trust is now gawking, waiting for the go-ahead
and i can't breathe
and we'll get bored
and we'll be worn and useless
we'll wander
we'll fall in some hole & never get out
think rain forest humidity
think packed cars drowning underwater

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