Vicious
I tore that girl apart in the
backseat of my brother’s car
dope-smoke camouflaged us until
icebox eyes met mine and I cried
because she wasn’t who I thought
she was
and she ran to the train
her face, freckled with
stains
this isn’t love or anything like it
or anything that tries to be
like it and fails
my disorganized heart
opens up and blasts apart
and my brain alone
is too chemically
confused so please,
tell me what to do
I haven’t slept
in weeks
reality soaked –
in liquid lead and
I’ve fallen in love
with a card-board box
that looks pretty in
the moonlight but it isn’t
what it really is, it isn’t
I scribble and scratch the backs
of beer mats but I can’t make them
slur their S’s like you
this is what I’m made of
this and fear that I’ll be wheeled
off under sirens and
electric shocks
and I fight
with men
to check
that I’m alive, I don’t know
blood on my shirt, dust-purple
patches and a split lip
does
that
constitute a beat?
