TELEPHONE CALL

Hook in mouth, I’m stuck to the bottom of your shoe 

Drinking your exhaust like it’s wine. 

You can’t even feel me.

You’re so far ahead, nowhere in sight,

Tucked safely away from yourself

Peeking into empty holes, throwing rocks in toxic shock.

Your back legs are working

Shredding the ground beneath your feet.

A crumb was knocked from your table!

I try to ignore it- try to forget it.

Just leave it alone.

I’ve got nothing under me

I float from crawl space to crawl space shedding a legion of fleas,

But still, I find their mouthparts, torn away, continuously working, in my arms and legs.  Reminders of where I’ve been.  I need you to help me extract these by pulling at them with your teeth, sucking out the poison like you used to, blazing and powerful.

Can I re-fill my dried out body… 

Let my bones regenerate my blood?

Or shall I use the blood of another?

I crush you with my voice.

I choke you with my ears.

I inevitably set traps which only ensnare me.

I’m working around myself, believing in nothing,

Supplying a body for science.

I consume the people around me like a soft, sweet bread pudding with chewy bits

That I savor and rend.

Always eating too much.

I could become a fanatic if I had the time and money.  Impoverished is what I call myself, weakling that I am.  I’m not what you fantasize, nor are you what I.  We are rarified creatures, outside of description, engaged in a broil, running off the end, posturing in mid-fall.

Exhausssst, mixed media on paper, 2016 copyright GPD

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