the archive

[scottermite]

the warmth of your approving smile almost makes me forget the sear of the coals
i can ignore the burns when you press the blisters they form and praise me for them

(what do you do when you fire all the shots you have bullets for but the rent keeps going up?)

[scottermite]

i think nobody cares.

i trudge through bad music; makes my ears grate
i am one of three-thousand monthly listeners.
will you love me, now?
i struggle through bad art; makes my wrists ache
i am one of many sharing in squalor.
will you love me, now?
i put up with degenerates; makes my stomach churn
i am one of the least desirable among their options.
will you love me, now?

i think i don't care.

tomorrow, i re-assess.

[scottermite]

I am unpicking the pain done unto me, gently;
I use my nails and wedge them under the thread,
and I pull, gently.

The thread comes easy with a little coaxing,
And I lay it gently down once it is out of the knot of fabric.
"You are okay, now," I coo.
"You have no more responsibility."

When I let go,
and it leaves the warm pad of my fingers,
the thread relaxes into itself.
I move onto the next one.

[scottermite]

glowing tombstones, ineffectual whine
cold like indifference
like red gone tacky

burst vessels like stars beneath my eyes
i don't mean anything to God
teary eyes and snot

skin rends to kiss cotton
like the cherry of a cigarette
forgotten, besotted

all liars go to Hell
rejection kills jealous property
something so doglike holding that glowing tombstone

but still
It's raining very loudly at the moment. Thought you might like to know.

[scottermite]

Poison Frog
orange, stark purple mottled skin
stuck beneath an ivory gate

Poison Frog wants to assimilate, and abandon
nauseating, pain-killing mirages in white hospital stalls
spends twelve dollars plus shipping each for proof (an offering)

(We're so similar, you & i...
Not much difference i can see.
Just boys being boys!)

[scottermite]

our lives are the sum of our choices; something i heard in a mission-impossible advertisement.
our lives- sorry. My life is the sum of my choices.
my death was is a womb.
dark, split by brief orange like a Nine Inch Nails album cover.
warm and Nothing. Warm, and nothing.

Jon Davis is yelling, Screaming, that he's the one who chose his path, and it's not that i don't believe him...

[scottermite]

there is snow stuck in your tires.
it's dark out, you wouldn't want to make a fuss or anything.
so you're stuck in your car park, you can't go anywhere.
and some of it still falls from the sky
hitting the windshield and the bonnet and the bumper and the roof, too.
don't want to have to shovel it off in the morning...

well, that's fine. you can stay the night.
i'm sure he'd be fine with that, i'm sure there's a spare room
fitting for you to build a nest for the night.

and not to guilt you into driving on the ice, but
i just hope you will come back tomorrow morning
... or the morning after that, or maybe the one after that.

(the snow will melt and you will still be gone)

[scottermite]

i am forced to bond with myself through gauze and isopropyl alcohol wipes
i am forced to bite back a sneer and respond with a band-aid instead

"I am so sick of you.
I am so sick of you."

i am forced to conjure a false future when people tell me i will be somebody
i am forced to construct the totem of a version of myself who will live

(and yes, thank you, i realize that nobody will ever get it like you do
that we have mirrored thoughts, and mirrored brains, and mirrored faces
but my god, i can't stand you! why did it have to be you?)
(maybe if it wasn't me we wouldn't be having this conversation.)

[scottermite]

have you ever wondered what a cat is thinking?
lying languid, soaking up the sun
even though she will stretch and saunter away in a moment
like she never even cared in the first place.

what she's thinking,
when she bares her soft belly and purrs for attention
then on a whim decides she's had enough and shows you before telling you
she doesn't even stick around to watch you bleed.

i don't think i'm like that, this all falls apart
aloof cat becomes desperate puppy when you pay any attention at all

You've never wondered what that stray is thinking,
he lies on his paws with his sad, sad eyes
and his eyebrows twisting to follow you around the room
his tail smacks against the tile like he doesn't even know he's doing it.

what he's thinking,
when he sits at the foot of the bed shaking so hard he moves
eyes blown wide and teeth bared, big shouts filling the room
but it's 10 at night, and God, shut up.

poor thing, no choice but to wear his heart on his puppy-dog sleeve.
isn't it so annoying?

[scottermite]

shimmering, beautiful things
more famed vices are a better place for you
your homeland is your birthcurse

was there ever another option? i don't know
if i tried to paw at your mirage i would feel nothing on my hands and everything in my chest
and around my neck
and around your neck like a mockery of your tragedy
they sell slaughtered animals on the streets where you died
they sell slaughtered animals everywhere

i make use of a stop-and-start every five minutes and i have the power to treat you like a story
and i have no right to be so distraught
it's like crying while paying to look through a keyhole

streaks of you wander across my vision, intercepted by eyelashes that are not allowed to be damp
a mimicry of the blur of a censor
like lost video quality haunts the words of your credits, illegible even if i could read your mother tongue