2 Mar 2014, 6:32pm
Writing
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Archeology (7)

Dwindling twilight

It is likely you are hiding out with your creepy dolls
In a grey mausoleum

Piercing your nipples into twenty weirdos
A death of briars

I would love to picture you that way
Sleeping on a Xanax pillow

Wanting to be no trouble to you
Wanting to wake up early and make the coffee
Feed the pets
Pick up all the messes left by the trouble makers

The people who live with us become increasingly difficult
With age

These goth-looking kohl-eye dolls you make and manufacture
Harrowing to look at

But they are not your children

*

Our kids are rowdy and rambunctious
We love them
Yet they drive us so crazy
Look, the youngest one has now learned the word motherfucker
He uses it at every opportunity

Get out of my way motherfucker
Here I come motherfucker

Ha, you scalawag
We are pirates here and this is a pirate ship

*

I would like to look at you in a funeral procession
Or making flower arrangements with Daphne
When we lived by the cemetery I would go there
And try to find you
Looking for people who looked like they might have been our age
Had kids our age
Lost kids younger than ours

Here lies a baby so fragile they named him Angel
Aged zéro ans
Etc.

When death comes to look at you or me I will not look at this anymore

*

You will be a Venus flytrap
I will be a man of war

I will feed you flowers to look at
Wholesome and sumptuous

They will have been our meaning

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