i used to think you’d show up when i left.

visions of a blustery fall day burial scene with cracks of thunder and would be lovers hiding behind trees while my family collected woulda, shoulda, and couldas

these thoughts brought comfort when slitting my throat seemed like a viable option

but

i forgot to rent out a sign to design the image of me i’d assign so you didn’t have to contemplate what i gave

absorbing left me dry

taken for granted

as i lye motionless you don’t deserve to cry while they lie and you skip over the dry sky that left me wanting more

now you’re heading to the store to buy what you were quick to deny

and these other assholes who take out billboards and broadcast simple tasks get your adoration in a shallow nation where everything needs to be spoon fed

here you fucking baby, planes coming in the hangar

i’d jab that spoon deep and carve out your esophagus, wrap it around your neck, and kick you over

the subtle beauty trapped in a clavicle bone draped with falling fabric riding up-and-down

is lost on you

not to be found in this fast forward fuck-fest where fake tits and cock sucking scenes are what you need to understand attraction.

told what to do, who to clap for, no fucking mind of your own to understand that passing fancy each day is what made you smile

keep nodding off to numbed out numbers coming through a real-to-life screen where i finally fall in the background

the worms will know