on decomposition. on rot that burrows to the marrow

@horrorlesbians \\ eileen myles school of fish: "rotting symbols" \\ florida's uplands \\ @viindiicta-deactivated20230130

musings on rot

charles bukowski pulp \\ yves olade belovéd (via @raeiyyn) \\ john engels weather-fear: new and selected poems: "damp rot" \\ kay ryan tenderness and rot \\ eileen myles school of fish: "rotting symbols"

My heart could burn, burn, bright inside its cage.

Knowledge is power, like an outlet, like the cables,

That carry my blue bright hatred, the roll of my eyes

When they pick the wrong choice again

I am well aware of your flaws

My love could flood the earth, salt soaked tears to drown out my sorrows

The knowing of All, of each word you utter before the sound departs your lips

I feel like God when you talk. Sometimes I wonder why He loves us.

You're sorry, again. You'll do this again.

But in his infinite mercy, God must forgive.

I wonder is it love or is it just that He knows it won't make a difference?

And I know knowledge is power, power like the murmuring of my fridge

Which whispers, taunting me in its melody,

Humming a siren song I know the tune for.

There's nothing in it to fill the hole inside me, the love poured out, the rotting meat stuffed in.

The hunger burrowed within my obsession

Anger taking form

It tastes syrupy sweet, and I stuff my pearls and dandelions and my rich hot blood

Like the blackened stars of flies caught in honey, a beautiful death for a wretched thing