You are the dead phase
I still live through
time travel
setting my heart on fire
electrocuting my veins
with my fingers trembling
tempted to reach out
touch this cold moment
until it crumbles like dry ice

You deserve to feel nothing from my solid phrases
and everything from my deafening silence

I want to be anything you hate
to prove
I was once upon an aching time
everything you saw to love

You can be my broken doll
the key to my dirty little door
dust touched out of fear
potential knuckle grazing tenderness
the dam to the built up tide

You aren't yet a shoebox actor
it's a working molassass project
the dried baby's breath to Poe

I've long since left
but I'm just seeing
the damaged exit to Kittyworld
from a mangaled tinfoil rollarcoaster cart
the viewing
for the death of an era
where she took a sledgehammer
to block out reality
and hold in the LSD

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