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I want to begin where juries weep over half-opened wombs. Where god, dizzy and sick with creation, staggers in cleft chinned and brooding. I want to begin with this.
I have replaced my disorders with an unfulfilled sense of longing, with my ear smashed against the phone I wait for a ring like I wait for the dial tone to strangle me until Im blue, gasping for breath just like the very moment I was born. I only wish I could fuck you the way she thinks she does; but, I am far too worn down and damaged by the phone line that has reeled me in jerks and pulls, scraping the finished gloss of an imagined psycho-somatic masterpiece, to ever be able to live up to your superior expectations. I refuse to be submissive any longer, and thanks to your discrete intervention I wake with surface bruises far beyond my already accumulated internal lesions, stressed and stretched, disfiguring in the sickest ways.
What fate is eventually overruled? Half severed infantry organs falling at my indefinitely postponed confession I finally made but Oh, what no god surprise. Permanent infertility I am sure, if not because of the gaping wounds you left infected and throbbing, then certainly from those mythical syringes emptying into my tender under inner arms, delicately mauled pasty white uncorrupted surface scum with violated innards, desecrated and burned, disembodied youth embodiment.
DEAR GOD(!), your pews are rank with piss and vomit, vacant screams echo throughout this disinfected hollow, holy linens stained with vulnerable carnage of the unborn, raped by steel, hardly spared the suffering of my own sick state.
I almost wish I could feel something move inside of me, a trembling second life form holding court in my lower extremities, making its presence knownimpossible to ignoreunable to decipher harboringababy syndrome from the generic morning heaves induced by lack of sustenance and over consumption of that all powerful hazardous white. A typical neurotic waste case.
If I could, I would go back and repeat every callous thought that entered into my head and I would revoke every kind word I ever wasted on you. Its all of the things I didnt say that make me a murderer; like how instead of telling you that I was kidding when I said I understood your love, I just let you fuck me harder, deeper, violently until all I could do was breathe, grit my teeth and bare it; until you decided you were through and left me broken, screaming, and slaughtered like an animal you had tamed, beaten and caged.
How did I ever say I Love You.
How did I ever force myself into bitter complacency and how now am I supposed to stand and cower from the thought that you will come back for me. You will come back and seek revenge.
I want to destroy the world you have built yourself. I want to tear you limb from limb and watch, laughing, as you scream bloody murder in a futile attempt at saving yourself, just praying that the god you have long since abandoned will suddenly forgive you all your sins.
YOU WILL BE FORGIVEN NOTHING.
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.
Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool's gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.
Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.
So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.