i get so high on you, drunk on you
drunk on you
hungover on you –
you are fucking everywhere.
tangled in the spaces where my hair curls slightly
slipping across my surface like the blue of a bruise
under my fingers
pushed into my veins
it’s not enough.
i’m not enough-
not whole, not real, not wise, not kind
i’m kind of broken and the spokes keep piercing my lungs
i’m tired
and spoken word has never moved through me
never coloured or cut or chiseled or cultivated via my motley tongue.
i am a wild thing
a frail thing
i’m hurting and i can’t pinpoint the source
the pain isn’t local enough and the fever is eating me
and i know
with such terrifying certainty
that my time is almost
over.
i am going to die soon – i can feel it in my bones
it’s been aching there
in the middle
with the marrow
for days, weeks, months, ever
i know with quiet certainty that in so many ways
so many important ways
i am already
dead.
i’m not sure i’ll ever know where i am with you
and i don’t want to fight
Christ, i don’t want to fight
i’m not a hard, sharp thing
i am the soft moss that faces South.
and you – and you, and you, my dear
the phosphorous igniting
the matchstick shrinks and
the flame drinks and
the neon pain blooms
through nervous fingers
but
the cigarette is
lit.
the cigarette
is
lit.
we lit it – together.
and we’re both jonesing
because
we’re both fiends.
you get me too fucking high
and it’s not enough
it’s not enough
i’m not enough.
light me up.
hit us again.
it’s not enough –
i’m not enough –
is that enough?
magneticmuppets 