sumthinz-wrung

[sumthinz-wrung]

23.58

I will wait for you to come back no matter how long you take,

and I will rejoice when you return,

like a good dog.

But when you close the door and leave me behind,

I whine and bark and cry,

like a bad one.

I miss you, and I'll tear apart every blanket and shirt that smells like you, in hopes to find you hiding somewhere in the fabric.

My love makes me selfish.

I am a bad dog.

[sumthinz-wrung]

14.33

Oh to die in the spring. And the apple trees will bloom despite of my blood.

[sumthinz-wrung]

23.16

Tonight I will sit here until my muscles rot off my bones and ravens fly through my bedroom window to clean me up.

[sumthinz-wrung]

02.11

My room smells gross. Like stale air thick with the scent of pork.

My teeth feel like polished bones in my mouth. And his saliva coats them.

I get up to rinse him out but as I look out the window, you're no longer standing there.

Snow has laid the ground to rest.

I put a knuckle between my molars and bite.

[sumthinz-wrung]

00.45

Sometimes I feel so soft and frail I get scared of my own body touching the mattress under me, thinking it's gonna rip me apart. Even a chamomile brushing against my skin feels like razor wire.

I want to seep into my mattress and evaporate.

I want to condensate onto your skin.

[sumthinz-wrung]

Yeah sex is cool, but y'all ever listened to music high?

[sumthinz-wrung]

There's an itch on my back.

By Elijah

There's an itch on my back that I can't reach,

it distracts me from others speech.

I wish I could reach it to end it,

but my arm's not long enough even if I bend it.

There's an itch on my back and it's driving me insane,

it's always there gnawing on my brain.

Perhaps I could use the edge of a chair? Nope.

Waiting for it to leave seems to be my last hope.

The itch on my back was scratched today,

After days of begging it just went away.

One day at work, my back went slack,

and the office cat dug it's claws in my back.

And just like that; relief and liberty.

Until my cat allergy brought into question my mortality.

[sumthinz-wrung]

21.48

Painan lusikan läpi vihreästä marsipaanista ja laitan sen suuhuni. Minusta ei tunnu prinsessalta. Minusta tuntuu pikkutytöltä, mutta ei prinsessalta. Istun hiljaa keittiön penkillä, polvet rintaani vasten ja itken. Äiti kiljuu eteisen lattialla.

Juoksen pihalla ja kömpelöt jalkani kaatavat minut hietikolle. Polveni kipeänä, nousen seisomaan ja katson, kuinka veri nousee hiekkaisten kämmenteni pintaan. Olen nielaissut piikkilankaa.

Kaikki konkreettinen valuu sormieni välistä lattialle, josta ahneet koirat lopulta nielaisevat sen

ja tukehtuvat.