Lipstick Politics and Glitter Here and There

I puke poetry and words that dress polite

Lipstick politics and I'm subtle with my dislike

When I was young, I itched for pain

Like a sore gum you probe and sprain

Pain made me feel alive

Can't say I'm sorry, gave me things to write

But I'm older now, and pain only hurts

I'm older now, pain festers, it’s not delight

There is no glory in it anymore

It was an idea I couldn't get more of

I try to reign in the hot thoughts

I try to conjure a version for you to love

I try to sculpt myself, a tumbler for you to fill me up

But I'm not sculpt-able anymore

I'm not flexible and my muscles are sore

And now I'm waiting, I'm waiting for something to happen

At the threshold, for a climax that is a burrow I fall in

I'm hiding in a million pages and films

Among music that wears poetry

A lonely fish in a sea full of squid

So I don't hate me for leaving when I did

Trying to stretch another joke through the silence

Trying to stretch till I split

As I wonder where you are tonight

If the one you're with, is a compromise

I quote Death Cab for Cutie, they deserve a fucking Noble Prize

Plans are putrid

Figures figured

As I wait for love to stop by

A memory so disfigured

I re-read old conversations

You calling me yours

And my believing you, cruel joke and what for

We're parallel lines set to never meet

A bitter love that time turned sickly sweet

Vinegar

You're getting laid, I'm getting assaulted

You're so proud of it, look at what I did

Glad to know what is want what is need

A wonderful world turned bitter sweet

Mean, need doesn't cut it

Fuck off, and I mean this

How can I forget what I'm worth

When Words are a currency I live for

More precious to me than gold

Your economic dealing in them-a wastage untold

I wonder why I continue to haul this dead weight

I wonder how long, till I can relish the clean slate

Lava

I was right to keep going

I'm worth all the gold Midas couldn't touch

I deserve words that bloom past wounds

I'm careless and impulsive, but I'm caring and divine

I'm a nightmare on the loose, if you're hurt me at the prime

Lonely days, empty nights

Kernels of passion all out of sight

I'll always puke poetry and words dressed in polite

But you'll never read them, even under the covers of night

So I stow it outside of me

For some to call poetry

Even if it's far from it

Because Words I write here are never tinged with regret

and feelings are echoes of time past instead