sometimesihatemycat

I didn’t make my bed today
I let it stay a mess
Of sleep and sweat and fevered dreams
Like fuzz that I have left
On my teeth in my brain on the skin
Of my sex
I am tossing the turns
I was planning to take
Letting little dust mites tackle their very own day
While I wallow and tussle
And twist and create
In this bit of the temple where I am allowed
And determined to play
With the grit on this shroud
Till I get up
And light up
And burn this shit down

-a.r.

Painting: Seule by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (1864-1901)

~ by April on October 21, 2015.

Posted in Body, Death, Humanity, Identity, Poetry, Whimsy, Writing
Tags: Alone, Ash, Bed, BtFD, burn, Creating, Flesh, Let it burn, Mess, poetry, Rules, Sex, Temple, Time, Writing