monkeys are monkeys, they can’t help it.
but you,
you are the universe.
infinitely maleable,
and infinitely glorious.
you’re at once an infinitely bright light,
and a million orange flowers.
you’re a field of green grass,
and the fresh air it creates.
and all this fights off the monkeys,
and the aligators,
and the angst of the new moon.
I hate the way the sun peers through my blinds in the morning.
I hate the way my body reacts to stress.
I hate the cars that rumble in the streets.
I hate fluctuations in temperature.
I hate the way mirrors are so confusing.
I hate the way my girlfriend doesn’t understand me.
I hate the blood that in my veins.
I hate the hair that’s on my body.
I draw things and they don’t look normal, I hate that.
I feel things and I ache, I hate that.
I find beauty in complication, I hate that.
I don’t remember names, I hate that.
I hate the way people think I’m negative.
I hate the way I hate what people think.
I hate the way I hurt when people stab me.
I hate the way my memory distorts things.
I hate mornings after breakups.
I hate mornings after parties.
I hate when I lose my motivation.
I do things because I have to, I hate that.
I take things I don’t need, I hate that.
I have trouble expressing my feelings, I hate that.
I dramatize my pain, I hate that.
I hate the way things fall out of calibration.
I hate the timing people have.
I hate windows in the winter.
I hate testosterone, and estrogen.
I hate the drawing I did of you.
I hate that I never took a picture.
I hate that I distort the way you loved me.
I hate that you loved me so distorted.
I run faster in my dreams, I hate that.
I take pills when my head hurts, I hate that.
I do things half assed half the time, I hate that.
I do things well when I don’t try, I hate that.
Your power will not evacuate this wretchedness inside me.
A foul sight and a putrid smell.
You chose this, one way to view the world.
Tell me what I feel I’m slowly dying for. This life and this life’s luxuries. I feel nothing but noise. Vibrations in the hollow of my bones and in the chasm in my chest. My eyes vibrate. My head tumbles. My thoughts; my thoughts have nothing to do with this. I can breathe deeply to the beat of silence but my breaths are shallow and empty. A vacuum pump pumping out the air while making a cavernous roar that sounds like an angry whisper.
It’s not my angry whisper,
though I’m angry
and I whisper.
And the thunderous clapping of the shoes; like women in empty hallways; like a covered bridge and hooves. This noise chamber has enveloped my home but my home is in my head. And my head is hollow. And it vibrates.
Unsound waves. Ample. Amplified.
A curse, karma. Self inflicted, self deprecating, self loathing, self annihilating, self elaborated and self fulfilling. I should have seen this coming.