#undermeyou

I’m all recycled phrases, bullshit metaphors. Don’t read me. I’m rotting meat. Maggots in pits. I’m blood crusted under the surface of bruised skin. I’m broken teeth, cavities. I’m the fucking soup du jour. But not today’s. Last week’s. Slop no one fucking ate. That paper sheet on the chair at the dentist. Used. Never changed. I’m the fever-sweat skin flakes you left in bed. Vomit in the toilet. Bandages, bloodied. That bowl you left in your bedroom. Covered in fucking black mold. Fucking black mold in general. Those giant sloughs of rubber tires that litter the freeway. Road gators. Fucking whatever. Spoiled milk. Disposable socks at the shoe store. Those plastic sleeves that magazines come in. Fucking useless. Empty coffee cups. Kitchen-drawer, dead batteries. Broken lightbulbs. Morning eye scum. I’m that last sip at the bottom of the glass. No one wants to fucking drink me. I’m last year’s almanac. Last year’s newspapers. Last year’s trends. Last year’s date. Last year’s...what the fuck was I talking about again?

I am ruin.

Suburban gods dwell in dumpsters and much like all others forget to make any appearance

They convene with the rats

Or maybe not at all

Probably not at all

Hum hallelujah

But I’ve become acquainted with the way the light hits my eyes just right

With the way my lacking seems to glow a bit brighter than the homes of the homeless

With the way that my sweat creates more miracles than I’ve seen spew out of churches

You ask me to drop to my knees

When all that I’ve learned is that falling is for standing back up

Press my shoulders with hardship

I will not pray

Slowly adding art to my society 6, if anyone is interested