If Guilt Was a Good Trip I’d Be High All the Time
For days I lived in locked rooms without clocks,
for months I’ve been treading this endlessness.
Someone told me I sleep with eyes slivered open.
Someone else told me my hands were a corpse’s.
Cope. I drown in magnesium, knock myself out
cold dead on the bedroom floor. Good riddance.
Everyone is mad I now live lawlessly, apathetic.
We both get to change the rules on each other.
Why would I pay for an education or get a real job
when I could talk to old men with death fetishes?
Let me walk around this house when it’s silent,
empty. I need to think. I have a lifetime to unbury.
I have a skeleton to marvel at. Sorry, your watercolor
butterfly inspirational quote murals make me gag.