(littering pearls)

My brain is the slaughterhouse din where we shake and wait for the inalienable right to end this time, this night, this life with the anonymous dignity befitting our fucking anti kind.

I'm feeling fucking sad right now.

Genuinely so.

Not sucked in the sorrow you can paint in blood on your bedsheets to remind that life is made of untimely suffering you reinvent anytime you need to suit some end (though a little gash here and there might be a polite way to forge ahead for the time being...too bad those are bygone days at best, my little coquettes) manner of cheap sadness that's left me ribboned as i am today.

That's fucking kid stuff. childhood revelry.

Right now there are no excuses for how i'm feeling. no quip. no misfit. no fucking mistake.

This is the weight of the realization that, soon enough, i have to let life just go on and be different than i might have imagined. i have to let lovers pass. i have to let my friends die. i have to acknowledge the fact that some of my best friends are liars and, as it turns out, i am the punchline.

I have to kiss her goodbye.

Because i can't afford the time. i can't sit by and wait with a swollen heart and bated breath as she makes up her fucking mind.

By now her decision must be, already, made and all i can do is learn how to hear it.

No matter the shame.