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Glamour and Cannibalism

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Glamour and Cannibalism

Tag Archives: i am so manic right now

The Last Song of Anne Sexton

26 Saturday May 2012

Posted by Ariquana in Fiction, Poetry, Vignette

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i am so manic right now, old people

My whole life it seems I’ve felt the weight of a gun held to my skull.
It’s an insatiable lust for surrender.
The awful rowing towards God.
Every time that oar smacks the River Styx, I fight within myself to keep from throwing overboard. I’m thirsty; drinking is too hard. I need to be fully immersed. I need to drown.
What the appeal of a horse gone lame?
A dick gone limp?
Sometimes I muse what life would’ve been like if I had not been born with wasps in my womb and a cockroach in my cunt.
What if my mother puked up my mewling pink fetus with the rest of the remains of her esophogus?
If, when my father fingered my immature labia, he had just thrown me down and finished the job?
Precious. Fucking precious.
If I had not a sense of humor, maybe I could’ve cut to the chase long ago. But with my slit smile, I had to drag out the delivery, still bracing for the punch line.
It is a myth that each man has his forte; you could take a chainsaw to my torso and find not one piece of talent inside, except maybe that for sadness.
I hate it. I hate it more than words could capture. I crave to leave my bleached bones in the sun until there is nothing left to critisize; just pure white, blank canvas.
I haven’t the willpower to starve, nor the courage to finally pull a trigger.
Instead, I have the godawful ambition to float around in this cesspool, waiting for my self to evolve. Just waiting, so patiently.
I hate patience. The same patience that has let me ride this perspiring beast of life with one hand half-heartedly holding the reins.
It’s not her fault he bucked and neighed and threw her off.
She was holding the reins the whole time.
My heart is still.
Waiting purposefully for for when my shaking thumb slips.

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Psalm 27

22 Monday Feb 2010

Posted by Ariquana in Poetry

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i am so manic right now, religion

Tuesday morning, sunny skies
Iscariot the jester waltzing on a high
Chords and notes and broken strings
My stolen kite made of angels’ wings

Dusty branches and wilted trees
Snowy memories and a warm breeze
Laughing like a mad wolf, chasing prey
I will not hang my head today

Memoria Morbus

10 Tuesday Nov 2009

Posted by Ariquana in Poetry

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drugs, i am so manic right now

Step back and rewind

In the thicket of time

I forget who I was

I recalled who I loved

And lost all my mind

 

Without remorse

I veered from the course

Of expectation

Romantic relations

With cosmic force

And where do I go?

 

With a pocket of inspiration

Another cause for an inflammation

Of biblical proportion

And what shall I do?

When my head is on backwards

And I’m stumbling o’er words

A picture in distortion

 

He sings and I revel

In a voice like the devil

And who is to blame?

The nightime of my eyes

Drowned in your lies

And o-o-o-oh the shame

 

Watch the circuit break

And taste my own mistake

I lost myself to blue

Dionysian breathing

Memories seething

Chasing after you

 

And what is the point?

Of this dementia waltz

Giving in to words that ring false

To simplify the game

What do I look for?

Clawing at my neck

What a gorgeous wreck

And I call out your name

 

My poetry is absurd

Choking on the words

I love how you sound

Living in the fire

The spark’s uninspired

When you’re not around

Poor decision making skills, but pretty good at badmitton

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Sooner

  • The Last Song of Anne Sexton
  • I Do Things Other Than Write
  • Made in the U.S.A
  • My Secret Garden
  • Making Love to Roy G. Biv on a Sunday Night

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