XXXXIV

sift away the dirt and pull down the webs
the old me is coming to visit and is hungry
the me that was
knows only love disguised as something else.
this me that was
was the wolf guarding the henhouse.
this us that was
was the bomb in the hand of the pacifists.
full of contradictions, rife with failure.
this you that was
is the same as now
attracting flies and smelling sickeningly sweet,
i’m destined to cave in on myself.

self implosion, self exile, self centered.
self centered? no- there is no self here.
the us that was wasn’t
the you that was wasn’t
this me that was doesn’t seem to die.

a terrible dream i can’t wake from
the point when
i’m under water and drowning.
the point where
I was flying and start falling,
the point where
i’m in school on the first day
and i’m naked. no one is laughing at me,
everyone’s throwing boulders at me.
i stand still like the kid in dodgeball games
pissing himself
in fear of getting hit again while
laying on the floor screaming,
clamoring for my broken glasses
i’ve broken a hundred times before
and my dad beat me for it
every single time.
rough.
this is so stupid. this is beyond pointless.
these words don’t bring me reprieve or revenge,
or respite. no rest for the worthless.