HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE
TO KILL
AN ENTIRE COLONY
OF ANTS
ONE BY ONE.
ONE
BY
ONE
MY PARTS DISENGAGE
FROM RETAINING
THE MEMORY OF YOUR VOICE.
I CAN’T EVEN REMEMBER
HOW YOUR FACE FEELS.
MAGIC IS A SUBTLE ART.
ART EXUDES ITSSELF THROUGH
CONDUITS OF MATERIAL.
IT’S ALL REAL.
IT’S A CLICHE
TO LABEL PAIN
DULL
IM IN A LULL
MISTAKING ANTS ON MY FACE AND ON MY BODY.
THE FEELINGS I LABEL AS MINE ARE EXPERIENCED IN A
NEW WAY
A SLEW OF GRAY
AREAS
51 DRAWINGS COLORED
WHILE WAITING FOR MY BACK TO GET HIT.
IS THIS SADNESS?
I CANT TELL MYSELF THAT IT ISNT.
BUT IT DOESNT
FEEL
THE SAME
AS ALL THE OTHER SADS.
WE TALKED OF BRADS AND CHADS AND YOU
YOU INSISTED YOU
WERENT ONE.
I BELIEVED YOU THEN
AND I STILL DO.
BUT I CANT LIE AND SAY
IT DOESNT HURT WHEN
WE PLAY WHAT I THINK ARE GAMES WITH EACH OTHER.
I WANT TO RUN AWAY FROM YOU.
BUT.
THERE ARE REALMS OF ME
THAT KNOW
THIS IS NO GOOD.
IM NOT AFRAID OF MANY THINGS
BUT
I DO NOT LIKE
THE IDEA
OF AN ANT CRAWLING IN MY EYE.
I DO NOT LIKE
THE IDEA
OF MISSING YOUR CALL
IM TIRED OF THIS ROLLER COASTER
IM SO TIRED OF IT
THAT IVE BECOME USED TO ITS FEELING
I HOLD MY OWN HANDS AND FEEL COMFORT.
I SEE COMPLETED ART PIECES ON MY EYELIDS SOMETIMES.
EXISTING BE NEATH CON FINES
IS NO
FUN
SHIMMER SUN
SWIMMER PUN.
YOUR EYES NEVER MATCHED LEFT AND RIGHT