ive wasted a million lives trying to get here, i can waste a million more.
dunes of dust by my boot, spilling from a hollowed out rib-bone;
a wasteland and a neophyte.
no art is perfect, nothing squeezed from chaos can be perfect,
as are we.
one day i won't pick up my phone when it calls,
it's cracked on the pavement below.
this is my final dissociation, depersonalisation.
we all live under the same sun, except me, drifting, somewhere.
pyrite eyes, satellite skies, closing in
as i sink, my pupils shrink.
i'm going home now,
i've loved enough.
cleopatra, aphrodite, lucifer.
the screen flashes fireworks, boom, boom, boom.
hell is a pleasant feeling; i can't hear, i can't see.
none of them are over me.
my soul is priceless, my mind unbound
by your golden chains.
label my syllables on cotton from Uzbekistan,
consumed by distant lovers–
and the others?
heal them with gunshot wound to the throat
in a bolivian jungle.
billionaires know what's best for me.
the devil strokes me; i can't speak, i can't breathe.
i've fooled you once, i can fool you again.
my millionaire thoughts,
i am made of clockwork and gold.
biding my time, tick, tock, tick.
waiting
to hear you scream.
YOU ARE READING
you, and my materials.
Poetrygive me a few moments of your time so that i can dress you up in poetry give me your eyes, see the world through mine i beg you to be gentle, please have empathy this is your world, on the floor, by the bed like laundry, pick me up and use me. s...
