practicing resignation

can’t fit all this insomnia
into my chest wounds
but don’t this bitch know everything
and what she don’t she makes up
like her mascara
this masquerade is an illusion

if you were half as Albert Einstein
as you are Sandy Hook
we wouldn’t have to improvise the important parts
of our monologues

she plays too much damsel in distress
she keeps correcting my syntax errors
I edit her spelling
we both double check our drafts
before washing up in the sink
advantageous adoration
our convenient religion of love won’t wedding band
can’t stand the requiem playing funeral marches
with our tarot cards & secret dreams
cut the actress out
your “living single” parachute strings
we need to both be on the same channel

can’t ignore the stomping mastodons
inside the prison cell of my stomach muscles
we take turns being the hoe
and everyone knows
you can’t turn hoes into anything useful
trading used to you
for tenderness
every thing says exit signs
just too obligated to read the signs…

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