The Collapse

I.

There’s a scratch on your shoulder
We pulsate.
Crushes me like, crushes me like lead
You gut me like a fish
And I wanna get older
and my entrails unravel
All the things I want I really shouldn’t get
like pools of regret, and longing
If I triumph, are you watching?
Can you separate everything for me?
like chants, forbidden verses, blood-curdling, unfinished,
spools of red flowing. I kiss your lies and toss ’em out to sea.
You used to work me out but you never worked it out for me
“Guppies,” I say, when I know the biggest liar is me.

II.

There’s a scratch on your shoulder
We fluctuate.
Crushes me like, crushes me like lead
If lust was a form of worship
And I wanna get older
and technology, a temple.
All the things I want I really shouldn’t get
Your entire life on a timeline, a newsfeed of your sighs
If I triumph, are you watching?
Can you separate everything for me?
scrolling down, speeding for redemption, in likes-per-status tempo.
Fuck religion. You think my chaos needs more taming?
You used to work me out but you never worked it out for me
I need to disappear for a bit longer.

III.

And your head looks good, Crash. I wanna love it so much Burn.
I wanna be the one, Melt. I wanna do what you love Down.
And I was lying, Fall. I don’t really wanna be fine Stop.
It’s all over
Take out your anguish and what are you left with?
And there’s a scratch on your shoulder
All you do is apathize. And I’m tired of bliss.
It crushes me like, What if it crushes me like lead
 your touch won’t affirm my existence?
And I wanna get older
like we thought it would, like we prayed it should
And all the things I want I really shouldn’t get.
I do you with mirrors and it all seems okay. For now.

Until, of course, we flat-line.

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