Negation Through Sadness

11-27-2004

It follows my stomach lining;

tracing sculpted muscles

and butterfly beats,

forcing peeled nails

entrance to my mouth,

and regretting the bedroom clutter;

encourages aggressive driving,

and 20 minuet mood-swings;

it evokes tears in me.

I hate it and I crave it.

I could deteriorate by its unwelcoming visits,

but then I could thrive

off of the energy it gives me

to dwell on myself,

and create beauty from tragedy.

In this state

wood block prints swim from surfaces,

and amuse me with their wriggling.

I can take back the things I say,

and regret breaking beloved delicacies,

but it will come again,

in a more ruthful form.

I wrings out my attitude,

but that is not what keeps me alive.

Fanning myself off in the sub-zero breeze

at some point will warm me up.