the archive

[cKy]

undiagnosed makes no difference
i prescribe you paracetamol and sparkling water
and more paracetamol and sparkling water
until your liver chokes and you fold

and i hope you spit bile
into biodegradable cups
with green leaves printed on the sides
in vegetable ink
and your whole body contorts
so wipe your face on the rim of the paper cup

and i hope your dreams are unclear
and unsafe, semi-lucid, not quite here or there
i hope they are saturated with the faces
of dead, hateful men
that come back from beyond the grave
to stare at you, and drown you in your own paranoia

and i hope it knocks some sense into you
when they miss your veins three...
four times
and a big purpleblue bruise flourishes, hidden in the
crook of your elbow, warm
like a mammal flower, and it depends on you like a dog

and i hope you mourn it when it dies

[cKy]

i'm a kid again
laptop on my thighs, burn a hole in my blanket

classism incarnate
all you got was a veneer of financial stability
now you rot when phone lines ring false

[cKy]

i wipe an eyelash off my pinkie
so i can roll a placebo between my fingers
i am wasted potential just like you

set an easy path to follow
left in front of right
your blueprint has vengeance scrawled on a munted desk


(but not really)
(just a pretty thought)
(fleeting like 16 becomes 20)

[cKy]

lie on my pink tongue
cost fallacy nearly as sunk
as the sockets of my eyes
and i'm sorry to lie

[cKy]

theres always a reason to lie
theres always an excuse
a fall-back, and exclaimation of
'i thought it would stay between us!'
'i didn't know he sent it elsewhere!'

it's true, but does it betray
that guilt which curls around your ribs
the choke that curls around your lips

if you're right then,
why do you need to lie?
why do you need to justify?

(stolen words, again?
borrowed words, again.)

[cKy]

they place so many rosaries around my neck
that it weighs me down
until my chin scrapes the floor
but they force my back straight
keep my knees locked in braces
they force me to force progress
like a holy inchworm

[cKy]

you are a predator with big, black eyes
dont overexert yourself, you don't have to move
just supervise until the sun dies
catch their reflection in the grooves of the moon

[cKy]

i could name the colour of your petals.
but couldn't point out any reasons why it appeals.
i can recall the colour of your green thorns.
but can't describe the sting, or the scab.

you decorate my floorboards when a gust of wind desecrates your window-sill honor
roots matted, porcelain shattered
you are so easily swept away, repotted in a plastic bin
only a streak of dirt remains

[cKy]

haaaauuuughhh
i ponder a sullen purchase
of a beaded chestplate
little black letters sit stamped
for use in tandem with a swift parry

unsure if you have noticed me
in a landscape snowy street
fightened youve spied a chestplate
is trust just a countdown to betrayal?

[cKy]

and it's not like i wanted more than your pity
i just longed for a thickly guilty slouch of shoulder
is this so much to ask for?

replace beady eyes with parts slipping down the face
little white words, dormant, grow foul mold
... this is too much to ask for.