~days eat dayslike I eat potato chipsmonotonouslyon a couch whosesprings have thrown outtheir backs no longer ableto hold even the remote up.it sinks between the seats likeI do every lonely saturday nightor every evening I can’t quitemake it to bed, cupped withsimilar back problems,a similar sag.I’ve begun totake after my furniture."the only unattractive curve,"a girl once said to me with a fewdesirable curves herself,"is the one a person developsin their back.”we dated for a month andshe called me herhunchback of notre dome(it’s dame, babe.)and I called her beautiful.just beautiful. and nothing else.but somehow her leaving did nothingto straighten my bent back butonly managed to deepenmy parenthetical stance onthose who love me(they don’t exist).
on how I need youtoday is a six-word story:I’m tired of waking updead.soon,I will peel back yourevery insecurity and anxietyand watch them fall to the floorlike vodka petals, regurgitated mosaics,soon,I will see you naked andreborn and you will break apartinto passive aggressive poeticdedications and unsent letters andsour breaths,soon,I will hate and love youfor the very same reasons andthen,I will move on.