Poo on me.

Ok, I suck. I admit it. I haven't posted since Friday. Yes, Friday. The timestamp is wrong, so my second Wednesday post from last week was technically Thursday's, and the Thursday post was technically Friday's. So that means that this post is....is....f*ck. Monday's. It's 12:39AM. I can't win. I just suck.

So...

Bless me, Julio, for I have sinned...

So here's a rough rewrite of an oldish poem of mine that it has been suggested I work on (please comment! I need some feedback. Tear it apart if need be.)...


Eat and Die

The gray dogs of old London dance flesh from my heels
like first frost churning at a jagged sidewalk.
The speckled tiles on the classroom floor begin to creak, locked
glue-heavy in fluorescent sheen.
A bulimic girl is sleeping in my bed
stinking of vomit and saliva and cigarettes,
trying to cleanse her sins with my dead skin.
I left her this morning, escaping my own room
with old jeans and a backpack
as she lay on her side still silent, concave and sharp, vertebrae like teeth
chomping out her guts, her sinewy knees exposed as she’s curled
trapping the balled up sheets between her small and neat breasts. I was cold
all night and she slept with her back to me, chewing at my lungs if I spooned her.
She only trusts her stomach to love and he ejaculates
acid into her throat like an alarm clock whispering
eat and die
eat and die
eat and die
with his pink hands pressing her head down
when she heaves to engulf him.

These tiles under my desk are faded with the scratches of steel chairs locked
in the same spot third row third seat from the window chewing on my legs
licked dry whitebones click clicking as I’m dragged over moonlit cobblestones through the
bleaching fog I sit at this hard desk absorbing the math, the accents, the stale
breath of all the other engineers, fucked for a job in a couple years.
We all know it
but it’s never spoken.
We’re all silent, swallowing the chalk dust like cheap wine before noon,
drugged.

And she is desiccated. Her bones are dry brush
crackling in the flame of self-control. Burning fast,
her teeth are dissolving. Two rows down and yawning fangs out,
one of us engineers unwraps a peppermint candy,
trying to stay awake and fight the drugs with sugar high and
pancreas excrement. And my stomach is rotting,
aching for a taste of salt and protein,
smelling of vomit kisses.

I touched her ribs just before dawn. She woke up and whispered to the wall
eat and die
eat and die
eat and die
beautiful like rabies as the dogs returned for me. And I run.

I click click over bricks in the sun
that’s not warm enough but too warm for October
thinking of maybe taking up smoking
so I’m not always touching her breasts with empty hands...

But I guess she’s gone now. She told me to set an alarm for 11:00 and now it’s almost noon.
I left her a bagel in case she was hungry.