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bitch, you think you know it all?
life tore you open and gushing,
spread on the floor sobbing, too sore
to clutch the pain towards your chest.
no respite. followed by the shadow of
a man, pathological fibs forming in the
space between your ribs.
she told you that you were a good person.
can you believe her? those screams.
now you’ve ruined them all.
who could want the fuck-up, selfish brash
stupid unprepared. you thought. over and
over, “i’ll figure it out.” you can’t. he was
always right, but too proud to admit it.
you’re no prodigy no prodigal no person.
you’re just the afterthought of existence
banging against the brick wall 'til the
blood pours drip drip drip.
can you help yourself to help others?
saw off your arm to sew eyes shut?
i suppose it’s never simple, but forgiveness
if there’s a god, he gives no fucks. we
are an ant farm he holds a magnifying
glass to, burning us alive with glory.
the babies and the innocents are those
who will survive us all.
the lucky bastards.