mai 2009

  we are getting heavy. this anchor is wrapped around my neck, across my spine just like an elevator squeezing all my bones into little pieces. like a toothpaste the juice of my spinal cord is seeping, covering all my wounds. sometimes i confound the echo of your breath into my bone sculpted caves with the wind seeding pain in dental caries. i feel like i could soil my wrists and knuckles with something besides water. 

sometimes i like to think of you like a little mouse carving his way to the surface, not knowing that my cats are staring all the time to the meat bubble that grows from me like a permanent erupting furuncle. i even have nightmares in which your tiny little ears are chewed by my cats after they flood my roofless house with boiling milk. i don't think i hate you, even though i wish you would drown in the seed that your father lets behind when he says he makes love to me. how do you make love to somebody? is that what you are? i feel like i should get you off the oven anytime now.

i don't know your name yet. in some way you're my superhero. in some way you've saved me. you made me not worry anymore that i will bore him. i don't need to struggle anymore to keep him near. i think he loves you more than i do. i think you are he's trophy and my gift to him. this is something i'm certain of. i can guarantee that you'll be loved. 

even by me. you're my rusty anchor. i can't move anywhere from here.