damn you, bill.

the fabric beneath my soles brushes against the concrete

cut and cut by the rough edge of this stone world

i come across a bill

raising it to my nose i breathe life and death,

that faint, mysterious scent that has

no name at all

fabric or paper? who knows, those above my head might as well

oh, i was happy, oh, i was sad

i pushed it into my failing pocket and sniffled, the light smell wandering out

oh i was happy, i could have my entire world

oh i was sad, i couldn’t savor it for long

i lay in in tall grasses, damn you bill, i see you again

the dirt sullies my skin, i know, i know, you want me to return

these two mirrors in front of my eyes, i want to pluck you off and be done

damn you bill, you permeate my nostrils and remind me

this stupid game i cannot leave, these stupid shoes i cannot kick off

the blue sky above me expands only to what the mirrors let me see

take me back to my damn home, dissolve me into the sand

let me smell the fresh tulips, before damned bill contaminated me

before it made us rotten

the rare taste of sugar falls into my mouth, a devouring cavern of earth

the dirt solidified into a being of hurt

a short, dumb girl of 17

that knows everything but nothing 

that sees only beyond those two mirrors 

twin glasses that hold, no, desire the drugging pleasure of living

you stupid bill, damn you and all that hold you in abundance 

rotting corpses that feel the flesh of breathing sweat and drown it in more salt

flushing us away from our bodies to spawn more diamonds, more pearls to harvest 

i’ll swallow it all, damn you bill

this solidified dirt of 17 will swallow you whole 

until you bow down to me

until you

let me hear the laugh of my sisters, their sweaty cheeks curved like the waxing moon

let the wrinkles fade away from mother’s face, let her go beyond her wildest dreams

let the old man take a sip of water, sitting until his bones melt into a warm, content puddle

let the young woman of 20 kill her destiny, smearing the blood of her enemies through her poems

let tired father hug me and never let me go, until he fades into a precious memory of the son of joy

let us live together, before you made us rotten.

 damn you, bill.