Hand-Me-Down

I hardly feel sedated anymore.
Reality came creeping back in, and bit me.
Flesh in mouth, teeth sinking into jugular fantasies.
This is real.
I feel everything.
Oh fuck.
This hurts.
But that's okay. That's okay.
Whatever doesn't kill me (and this won't) makes me....
Invincible... Invisible. Stronger. Whatever. I'm fine.
But as she doesn't know, within the clouded moans and the quake of your body at it's peak.
The weakening in your voice and the breathlessness that chases your head in circles as you lay hand in hand, dazed.
Within the depth of your soul and the twiddle of your thumbs as you send text with meaning yet are sent meaninglessly back and forth as you play tongue twisted riddles of love without saying those words.
You're useless. A lover with a brain but no heart to back it up.
A painful memory and the last sip of wine. Bitter and stale, still intoxicating none the less.
She will know of your painful words, and your lack of time.
Induced by a rage of drugs, both of you engulfed.
I only wish you don't drown as you huddle together in it's slurry.
No. I'm not sedated anymore, I'm fine.
Pick up those pieces and glue them together, but good luck reshaping what I've broken.
I kept a few pieces, and you're never getting them back.
I've ruined it for everyone.
And I am proud.


"Human society sustains itself by transforming nature into garbage." -Mason Cooley