the dizz

warning: some strong language, first of all, and other strong ideas. also might be a bit triggering, because I based the pace on my racing thoughts.

can't give up, can't get out
turn the switch on, switch off
alarm clock ticking, ricketing,
picketing, no fags here! not in
our schools, not in our community,
not in front of our fucking god!

he made you
but he made you
out of mistake.

(i heard wrongs tend to come in a pair. you must be
his, her, other mistake, you homophobic piece of shit.)

autopilot can't fly, because autopilot
doesn't have wings. it has a body, and says
stupid things. (i'm here. yes, thank you. i'm sorry.
i don't know what for, but i'm sorry.)

the blood in my mouth
is my own. the blood
in your mouth
is mine.

these things work like reverse construction,
ah, destruction, a structure, instructing, making
things so you can say there are things and that
these things are coming along, getting done, just
another year or two for this project.

(you need skyscrapers
to tell you things pass along, and
why wouldn't you? when you're drowning
in a world of shit, you've got to learn
to stack it. it's exactly what you're doing.)

when i shove my finger down
the back of my throat, the world
vomits up hail. angrily, the hollow in my stomach
becomes a dent in your car. can you feel
the lining running out? the acid
consuming? tell me, do you love it?

i break my fingers
hand them to you and say
let's leave a print. i break
my fingers, hand them to you, and
say, shit, why did i break my fucking fingers?
but it's too late.

i woke up in bed,
a dizz in my head,
to find this wasn't real
and my skin weeps, begs,
to be peeled.