bits and parts

Fri, 09/13/2013 - 00:53 -- mnissan

I don’t stand next to the statue

of my failure

of my epitome

my identical

and my reciprocal.

She reminds me of all my short comings

fawn like legs kick.

I’ve always wanted to be a fawn

but I am the calf

bread to be plump.

The wind can blow open the cage door

but it can not blow the bitterness off my thoughts

and the volcanic dust

off my lungs

slowly shredding them into paper streamers

making every breath

a wheezing failed attempt

at a surprise party.

It feels like a thunderstorm

in my chest

and rain precipitating on my heart

creating flash floods

through my arteries

and my veins.

I will never become accustom to my bones

I will never understand the cells of my broken body.

Slowly mutating

and oxygenating

the attic garden.

I reach inside my throat 

and place my stigma on top of my heart

and it extends throughout my whole body

It’s like a salty sea in my chest

swelling and hitting the sides of my sternum

wrecking ships onto the rocky sea shore

in my stomach.

Do you remember when I told you

that I kissed the brim of a teacup?

trying to rid myself

of my follies

the failed pursuits

and the honeyed things

I hid inside.

She shoots through me

like a bullet through skin

tears open my chest

releasing a bouquet of flowers

she looks upon us 

huddled & withered

like saplings.

I will continue to walk down

the cold

and solitary path

to cartilage

and cradled arms,

meeting her there

but hopefully leaving her behind.

And I face

a faceless situation

taking no shape

and no form

but has the voice

of bee stings on fore arms

and scrapes on elbows

and bruises on knees.

Perhaps dark like ink

and shrill as that one summers day,

where I let the sun

hit me too hard.

Hard like your words

when you told me

I’d never kiss the lips of mountains

because I had anchors

around my ankles.

I couldn’t let the crumbs of rocks

reach my lips

or fall down my throat

or land on my tongue.

It would add to the heaviness

add to the incapability of reaching the heavens

I will have two feet on this earth

and wait for your hands

to grab my ankles

like tree roots

and pull me back down.

I have done it well.

Embracing black gauze

but tearing it off my forearms at the same time

tenderly touching finger tips.

As the chunks

and morsels

and traces

of myself


I feel closer to you.

Closer to your size

and closer 

to the velvet soft ground

welcoming me with an open mouth

chewing me

and swallowing

all of me


the bad parts.


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