toothless, chokingRound at yours, I choked on teethtoothless, choking by iamalazycapricorn
and scrubbed them up
in the sink.
I spewed blood, as red as poppies,
and cried about war and that
bit in The Boy in Striped Pyjamas
when he crawls under the barbed wire
to join the Jews.
I crawled under barbed wire for you
but it wasn’t wire
just silk sheets and my bloody lips,
open as unfurled roses to the wind,
pressed acid kisses to the backs of your knees.
Knees make me smile
like bony boulders hidden under flesh,
or plug sockets, loose from the wall,
short-circuiting with my conniving tongue
snaking up the valley of your thighs.
Before, we went to get KFC
where the canteen smelled like piss and chips,
the tables dry with too much disinfectant
baked on under the stay-warm gold lights.
We’re not talking, my tongue is thick with venom
and your knees are wrapped in denim
bandages that I can’t breach in polite company.
So we’ll eat limp chicken from paper trays,
watching that shitty tv, pressed up to
the corner of the room.
repetition and other crimes of passioni.repetition and other crimes of passion by iamalazycapricorn
I haven’t written poetry in a while
not like this, all clenched knuckles
pen pressed to paper like a gun barrel
stuck up against an abused wife’s skull.
I’ve never written poetry drunk before -
I’m not now.
but something about the rain is making
my blood thump for something
stronger than water,
more acidic than sulphur
but I’ll take what I’m given and this
bitter liquor of life
seems to do the trick.
Trick or treat. I hate Halloween. I hate the dumb parties more,
slutted up for sin but
straight-backed as a pinned Frankenstein, stretched out
on the torture-board of your chest.
We’ll play truth or dare till three in the morning and I’ll
bleary-eyed and out of my mind
on the recklessness of life, that I think
Doctor Who is real or I’m stuck in an alternate reality
he left me in.
You’ll smirk like a sucker, suck back cigarette smoke
like a trucker
and tell me I’m a fool - the Doctor wouldn’
on love's sweet bonesOnce upon a time, adam told Eveon love's sweet bones by iamalazycapricorn
she came from his bones,
and Eve laughed. her cackle
split time and snapped apart
the legs of women everywhere to lying adam’s retribution.
and, honey, i hope i’m not a sweet blasphemer
when i tell you, darling, that
i like to think she laughed
the same way i did when you told me you loved me
like no other you’d had before.
well, that’s a fucking stupid thing to say because
there’s two sets of twelve ribs, lover
and you’ve had all you’ll have of mine.
who else made up your hearts advent calendar
and counted down the twelve days of my thigh-splitting
you loved my idea, like i was a chained to the side of basilica
waiting for the sea to swallow me up
you revelled in that rib you thought
brought me life
and i hated that your cagey heart struck me with strife.
wife, you talked of the future
and I’ll be damned if my womb damns my fellow women
and why should fellow sound like
Carbon monoxide's my new best friend.I didn’t look sad.Carbon monoxide's my new best friend. by iamalazycapricorn
When I crept home under the cover of clouds,
defiant and returned from the place I should have gone
a paradise, saw me turn and run
and sad I wasn’t, in my eyes,
when I saw myself in the panels of glass in my front door.
Mildly surprised, open mouth, running nose
I didn’t look sad.
And yet I felt, as I often feel,
like I’ve never crossed a road before.
As though I’d kicked off from the curb and mounted the sky,
airborne as I was struck by cars
and my ghost just crossed those concrete
sunken riverbeds, a ditch where my body laid,
scrambled by a chassis and tumbled under tires.
I wonder if I don’t cross roads at all,
just die under wheels and life’s locomotion and it’s
my inanimate zombie,
stilted frame, slumped gait
that walks all the way home.
So I sat on the doorstep, key to the front door in hand
and thought on how it would feel to swallow such an object.
Would it transform me, could I
unlock myself from th
the last poem i will ever write for you.last springthe last poem i will ever write for you. by diddlyhohum
(after almost a year)
you lost me when
you fell into a venus fly trap.
there was even a sign saying
'THIS IS NOT A VENUS FLY TRAP'
and i believed it. i am so
sorry. you are a rose.
and what you couldn't say,
you spoke with your blood-shot
eyes leaking blood-clear tears
and i believed you because
you meant it.
i painted you turtles.
you pulled my hair.
we wasted gas and blew money on cigarettes.
we fucked like we breathed- erratic,
and savored. you held small
secrets that only i knew. we
promised to get married and
hump each other senseless.
we went hiking
and before we left
you had to have me on
your living room floor.
i had not seen you in a week
and all the messes we made were
cleansed in a semen-salty bath.
on the mountain-
we stopped at every bench for a
cigarette because we were out of
breath. we never made much sense in
the first place and i went down on you in the wilderness
because at that altitude you have to go down
somewhere. you hel