Author Information
Spitting
Folder:
A Little Black Book
It is in vile
no space between lines
maggot and twine
that wrap throughout
tighter, tighter, tighten
and wait for the black
to pull the blue
from your incredulous muse
It is in air
nullified by perfect scream
shrill and shrieking
that opens up between
wider, wider, widen
and dislocate the jaw
as if swallowing isn’t
hard enough
It is in ME
mistaken for you
heart and sacrifice
that pierce through too
zipper, zipper, zipping
and close the wrinkled bag
like the ones you were spitting
in your best of suicide king
It is in wait
sullen, empty wait
that I will know
It is I who needed You
It is not the same
It is not the same
It is not you
