Stone Cold Love & Sour Milk

I will never completely remove you from my brain's synapses altogether,
particles, dust-speckles, angel dust, piceous ashes of You, shattered and broken,
where the crowning thorn in my side lies.
Pneumonia, insomnia, pill resin, suicidal tendencies, big-bird whistle, and feverish youthful laughter
emitted from our lips.
It was worse than daytime television.
Maybe you consider yourself a god.
Mouth curled up smiling, crooked sickled-spine, of our love dead oath,
Or like some hindered devil at the base of your tongue.
It's been years and I still worry about your ever-inflated ego.
Like clockwork, thickly-paned, frail and sickly,
Dimly lit uvula in the glowing altar of my restroom mirror.
I am none closer now to making amends.
The shivering, baroque, tumuli where my splinters clear my olive hide.
No longer can I keep silent. I don't think I ever shut the f*** up to be quite honest.
Nights, heaped on the bowels of a smoky weir.
The empty stones that struck down hands of warning.
Beside the rancorous doom I had predicted.

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fragmentaationsThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Mar. 20 at 4:45 pm
this is absolutely incredible. this is packed with emotion and raw feeling and such wonderfully imagery. thank you.
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