the drugs don’t work

December 19, 2006

you love
the brittle empty
taste,
how rich
you need it.
angelic, really,
how
you pretend to be
the light on the crown
of your head,
your
eyes darken.
is there a devil
on your shoulder?
hissing
in your ear
when
you 
need
the rush.
you bite the words
with
t(wi)(st)(ed)
exhuberance,
those awful words.

fuck
your perfection
fuck
being
perfect.
fuck
i’m only lying to myself,
no, only you are.
i don’t want
(or maybe i do, but i won’t,
i can’t)
to lie

think
you are not 
quite like me
because,
at the very least,
i know: it’s not all right.
yes, and
i know
how it is
to lose
yes, yes, yes,
and
i
know
what someone’s breathing 
sounds like
wind
at night, through
my screen window
heart beating beneath my  hands
pounding, really,
ivy flutters
your eyelashes against my cheek
flickering streetlights
breathing
brushing
past.

you are 
everything 
i am
more than a sister or a lover or a 
friend
you are
myself
i am
yourself
we are
less than < 1 > greater than
you have to know
you
need
to understand
i will show you
everything
is
(not)
beautiful.

sadistically,
ausgustine

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