it comes and goes. like the nausea the morning after
when we drank until we could finally sleep but didn’t sleep
woke up sore and shaky the next morning.
and meanwhile i’m trying hard to keep track of all the time
and all the times and all the anything.
i broke my fucking hourglass and now i can’t sort out the sand.
i’m letting it slip aimlessly through my fingertips
and it just piles up on the floor.
like what? fuck you. i’m sand and i represent your lost time.
and i make daily attempts to appear less heartless
and i bite my tongue when she asks if i’ll forgive.
until i’m sick of the charade and take a proverbial bowling ball
and chuck it into all the fancy little white lies i’ve set up.
screaming “I’M A PIECE OF SHIT.”
and fuck it, i never loved him, i don’t know how.
and maybe i did but i don’t know and i should know, well
shouldn’t i?
and i’m confused now, and i’ve got so many tangles of theories
and suppositions and epiphanies and bullshit
and the times just piling up at my feet
and it all gets kicked around and blurs together and i can’t even remember which way is fucking UP anymore and i don’t remember which way is fucking up and who’s getting fucked up and what they fucked up and who they fucked and what fucked up little things i’d let you do to me and meanwhile i’m still trying to figure out which WAY is fucking UP and i’m scared, and i’m scared, i’m scared, everyday i get more fucking scared that i’ll never begin to figure my own fucking head out and meanwhile, meanwhile
the only thing i’d ask of any of you
is just to promise, honey, promise me
you’ll never figure me out. we’ll just fall asleep
and maybe we won’t sleep but we’ll pretend and
wake up sore and shaky and full of phantom pains,
ready for a new day full of bullshit and fast talking
and smoke and mirrors and caveat emptor.
and fuck it. there i am getting off track again.
swimming around the ruins, getting caught up in the past.
still lamenting over mistakes i let you make and how
i let you treat me like a goddamn lapdog.
and when you finally let me go
i feel like shit for falling out of love with you?
and what now? and what then? and what the fuck?
and what of the band-aids for our little scrapes along the way?
we’ll buy gallons of liquor and drink until we can see straight.
drink. until we can see. straight. through.
alllllll the bullshit and by G-d! i’ve figured it out.
and i’ve caught a grain of sand from the hourglass,
and i know who i am, this time.
and i know that i loved him, and i lost it but fuck it
honey you can have your cake and eat SHIT
i’m tired of supporting the facade of a house burned down.
i loved you but i don’t. and you don’t and whatever. but tonight!
i love the whole entire world, tonight. i just... need to remember this
in the morning
when i’m putting band-aids on my hangovers.
sticking sutures in my open sores.
