I
live inside a box inside my head
It’s
marked fragile, but no one pays it any mind
Be
kind to yourself before you self-combust
Fishing
off the pier with my imaginary dog Rufus Wainwright
Finishing
school only made her an even more entitled, pampered bitch
Now
she’s in the White House pretending she earns what she gets
There’s
an electric fence around my most private of thoughts
I
don’t have to hire bodyguards because no one has ever wanted anything to do
with them
Poetry
and pariah go hand in hand if you’re doing it right and the stripe down your
back is multifaceted
Every
single time she went down on me it was begrudgingly and I knew it from the way
she wrinkled her nose and closed her Maid of the Mist eyes
There’s
something to be said for forbidden love if it’s by the book and the book isn’t
barely legal and stinking of teen spirit
I
live inside a box marked insubstantial and it has to be that way otherwise nothing
works and I’m left holding the bag yet again
Charles Cicirella
7/25/18
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