I’m always waiting for the next home invasion, the next tear to fall, next dog to be put down
Next hand to hold or human to push away, next frozen bag of peas I must conquer because they remind me too much of Holden and all his depleted Dakota fantasies
Learn to love and then kill the rabbit before your spawn tears apart this world with its Ann Landers advice written for bored housewives that need a reason to live or die before it’s too late and their absent husbands discover just how radical suburbia is
I’m always waiting for the next shoe to drop even when the shoe doesn’t fit and the show must go on, even when Esther is under water and Christian Bale has lost so much weight he’s the invisible man and no one has the nerve to tell him his bandages don’t fit
The next friend that reminds me of the cross I’ve nailed myself to best keep in mind their own glasshouse failings and how just because you were once a legend in your own mind hardly means the kids still want to go down in the basement with you
We walked out of Jim’s memorial and Mike spoke some words that have been engraved onto my soul like a Tennessee Williams rose tattoo even though the actual words have escaped my panic room mind long ago
You want to believe I’m something I’m not go right on ahead, but at some point your misgivings will catch up with you and when they do I don’t want to be anywhere near your whistle-stop tour to become a better human because I’ve become convinced your campaigning will silence all of us before even our voices can escape our yellow canary throats
This poem is coming out fast and furious because that’s how it sometimes is when you cannot spare a square and the smell of shit reminds you of summers in the country with the mannequins and stoats
I no longer have anything to do with relationships because I too often lose myself in the other person. If you aren’t willing to walk through fire to reach me why then should I even light the match and allow you to experience my burning intellect?
Charles Cicirella
12/18/20
Next hand to hold or human to push away, next frozen bag of peas I must conquer because they remind me too much of Holden and all his depleted Dakota fantasies
Learn to love and then kill the rabbit before your spawn tears apart this world with its Ann Landers advice written for bored housewives that need a reason to live or die before it’s too late and their absent husbands discover just how radical suburbia is
I’m always waiting for the next shoe to drop even when the shoe doesn’t fit and the show must go on, even when Esther is under water and Christian Bale has lost so much weight he’s the invisible man and no one has the nerve to tell him his bandages don’t fit
The next friend that reminds me of the cross I’ve nailed myself to best keep in mind their own glasshouse failings and how just because you were once a legend in your own mind hardly means the kids still want to go down in the basement with you
We walked out of Jim’s memorial and Mike spoke some words that have been engraved onto my soul like a Tennessee Williams rose tattoo even though the actual words have escaped my panic room mind long ago
You want to believe I’m something I’m not go right on ahead, but at some point your misgivings will catch up with you and when they do I don’t want to be anywhere near your whistle-stop tour to become a better human because I’ve become convinced your campaigning will silence all of us before even our voices can escape our yellow canary throats
This poem is coming out fast and furious because that’s how it sometimes is when you cannot spare a square and the smell of shit reminds you of summers in the country with the mannequins and stoats
I no longer have anything to do with relationships because I too often lose myself in the other person. If you aren’t willing to walk through fire to reach me why then should I even light the match and allow you to experience my burning intellect?
Charles Cicirella
12/18/20
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