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In this burrow my mind is filled with you The one just for me I’ve scavenged high and low I found those who loved me But not for me They loved me for what I was, and what I wasn’t And they discarded me for those same reasons But you saw past it Those wires that were tied tightly So tightly around my heart You didn’t mind feeling the buzz of electricity You didn’t mind how the heart that you found was not like your own You became the someone just for me
would it make you feel better? to become him? to wear his skin? to no longer be you? would she love you then? hug you? kiss you? want you? or would you simply be wearing a mask? would everything that makes you repulsive remain? would she find him in another man? would you try to take his skin as well? would you keep going until all was tainted? until all she could do was walk away?
Father, Why do I feel nothing? Not satisfaction, not serenity Now while looking at your body Desolate, yet masquerading as something with warmth Despite the fact that when those eyes could open They caused me such deep agitation Terror at you taking it away The only thing that truly made me a man Father, Why do you linger the way you do? Down the dark corridors of a house you did not die in That you did not even bleed in Though you could have Though I wished you did Why can I now feel those eyes on me Those eyes that i thought could only look through me Or pick me apart Father, why have you begun to devour me? Why do I now see you in everything? Why do I feel more like you than I do myself? Every word that bubbles out of the spout that is my mouth Is something you would’ve said Its as if I am a mere plank and you a colony of termites You eat at my thoughts, until they are only filled with you I am a piece of rotten meat, and you are the maggots that engulf me Father, know that my wish of you dying in this house will come true And that when that time comes, I will still feel nothing
do you believe in rebirth? thinking you have escaped a hellish reality or maybe thinking you will be sent to some divine place because you were special, righteous, god fearing Just to be sent back and do it all again maybe not even as a human maybe when you get back, you won't live much of a life at all just a few months of loud colors and sounds that you suddenly can't understand and never do with that specific mind in that specific time for a mothers tears will be shed over you and you will remember those tears as you go on to the next life where you could just get cut off again and again and again
To travel inside of the thing that keeps you going The thing that can stop within a moment and leave you barren, a shell of what you once were No longer feeling the faint tingle of the rivers and streams that flow by its will To feel the bass of the pounding all around you Maybe it'd pick up its speed when it senses your intrusion Your prodding and poking as you traverse its insides that are inside of you Anxious in the same way you would be, surely To have some foreign thing getting a look at the muscle, The veins, The valves Seeing what makes you tick Maybe the it'd be beautiful for you, to see it all Deep in the crevices of that viscera, You might find it holding everything you can't tear yourself away from Those little things keeping you going Tight in its grip, dreading the day it might get torn away.
like wax burning heat all around it dances on my flesh, welts forming the discomforting warmness it builds, wrapping around, suffocating and when i burst fluid does not fly, instead trickling down a sweet relief it is then lapped up like a nectar returning it to its place inside
will this death be art? will i be put in a glass case or on a bed in a tower or in a book, my blood filling the pages or will it be closed casket and regarded as a tradgedy will i be seen as art, a perpetually fresh flower a spectacle or as the rotting carcass that i am ?
desire - a horrible thing it causes a terrible aching with an unidentifiable source is it in my mind? my mind that goes around and round and around a closed spiral is it in my chest? my chest that continuously beats and pulses and pounds no matter how much i want it to stop is it in my hands? my hands that wish to grab and hold and hit but remain firmly by my sides is it my stomach? my stomach that sits empty and churning and full wishing to be rid of the defilement is it my soul? my bitter, yearning, forsaken soul? maybe that's the answer, maybe it is not the only thing i know for certain is that its all caused by desire
theyre constantly flowing out of my body in clumps in chunks in clots in streams from the brightest red to the muddiest flax im a fountain im beautiful in a grotesque way akin to a blossoming fungus when these colors flow out of me im beautiful im beautiful i will always be beautiful as long as this body is torn open as long as its agonizing as long as the colors keep on flowing im beautiful