a text that never sent

i guess every time the moon changes phase
i lick up another line for the way i’ve been candy flipping my heart over you
it is a coin i keep tossing with my fingers
it is a big bad red penny
and i learn slowly, that i don’t like you half as much as i did
or should.
i toss and turn
and fail myself again.
my bedsheets move and so do voices on the tips of the cotton waves
i seem to make as i shrug with pain.
god’s thumb begged me to forget
and i gave him the devil’s fingernails instead.
i picked them from out of my underwear
and i tried to dream about planets
that fell into my carcass instead of you
it was an earth of impossibility
it was a terrorist in my lungs
but as i dreamt,
i saw you maybe loving me again one day.
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mate i’m not a drive-thru

whenever i kiss a guy i hurt him
not sure why;
i guess out of habit i have to bite his lip, graze him
it’s not about leaving a mark
but a guy needs a receipt, right?
i’m fast food, take-out, noodles on a tuesday
and the sauce is all over your dashboard
i’m a drive-thru
i’m a napkin to take on home
i don’t like to be eaten.
you can’t idealise mass-produced, processed crap like me
when you just stuff it in the cheeks of your stomach and say,
‘i ate it’
oh yeah you fucked that up like
the way you fist bump god on the street
n invite him round to watch the city v. utd match
with your chicken legends dripping down your faces.
you guys meet every sunday.
not in the chapel at 9 am,
but on your bedroom floor whenever he rings your doorbell
with pages from the holy bible for plates.
and he’ll tell ya
“mate she’s not a fucking drive-thru”
and you’ll say to yourself you wish you never brought this up “i never said she was”
but she so was.
she was the please-enter-your-chip-and-pin
and she was the sweaty package handed to your arms
over the sleeve of your car.
so whenever i kiss a guy i hurt him
like hot food.
not sure why;
out of habit i’ve become a bit of a meal,
a moment on the lips, y’know.

I hope he fucks her so hard her mum feels it.

excuse the bluntness of your wife’s body.
the moon is rounder than her belly,
holding the bump.
this is so sad but she’s waiting for you.
you disappear, your wedding ring melting into the mattress you share.
and she doesn’t see anything, but my god she feels you go…the clock falls,
You stand naked, waiting on the corner
yum yum yum yum eating someone else.
and you writhe on her.
you writhe on that body,
that dripping container.
and there is a stillness in her room.
you could crack the air in half.
you could drink lead.
oh i bet you could, i bet you could, you bleach your insides as you move in her.
there’s nothing to it, you don’t feel a thing, it’s cheap as chips, this casual business.
but the ocean’s never tasted sweeter in your wife. 
y’know,
brace yourself for this, she sat opposite me last wednesday,
looked like a bleeding lamb, running her thumb around the edge of a coffee cup.
she said,
“i hope he fucks her so hard her mum feels it.”
the trees sank in her stomach.
the sky stopped beating.
her kid burst.
you writhe on her.
the blood.
the sinks swelling with sick.
the gum you chew,
and chew and chew
and chew and chew
and chew and chew
just to get the taste of (she wasn’t even that great was she)
that thing out of your mouth (it’s fucking disgusting)
so that your wife won’t lick it off your lips.
(aw try harder why don’t you?) (keep going, lol) You do it by yourself.
you fuck her so hard
that your wife,
that mother,
Feels it.

oh god where are you i need you now

oh god, i drank too much wine

 i’m in the belly of the earth
i got pregnant with the ocean

 and i watched god shoot up heroin, watched god die
watched god wake up

i was about to bungee jump off the sun
i was about to rack up in the library again

but then that paragraph of bullshit you never texted me

entered my mind again

oh god i drank too much wine
jehovah, please crush my lungs with your tongue

oh god, teach me the art of suicide
and teach me how to finger myself in seminars without being sent out
oh god send me off the rails

and oh god, don’t text me back
and oh god, take pictures of yourself with the other angels
and make me jealous

i wanted to be lucifer under your fingernails
and i wanted to be an entity in you

 that time couldn’t fix
that tore your flesh up like tissue

i wanted to be lucifer putting you in a headlock

  oh god i drank too much wine
it tasted like my mama’s blood

it tasted like something wrong, man

 god why weren’t you fucking me with your thumbs
why weren’t you glowing up my phone screen every other night

why weren’t you out burning books with me
and pissing outside churches

and wearing the bible on your polo t-shirt

oh god, i drank too much wine,

 had a one night stand with some prophet

  because i couldn’t have you
because i didn’t want you
all i kept asking was where are you

i did that thing
where you cross your legs
and press your palms together
in my kitchen

it’s all so human, this fridge, this plate, this body
i prayed i prayed  i prayed  i prayed  i prayed  i prayed
you heard me    you heard me  you heard me
seen: 05:35am seen: 05:35am seen: 05:35am 

this is blasphemy, god this is blasphemy, god 
i made you, i made you, i made you,  
in my freeze in my freeze in my freeze in my freeze 

so where are you now? so where are you now? so where are you now? so where are you now? so where are you now? so where are you now? so where are you now? so where are you now? so where are you now? so where are you now? so where are you now? so where are you now? so where are you now? so where are you now? so where are you now? so where are you now? so where are you now?

and how, mr toilet roll dispenser, did we get here?

i sit in the stalls
head against the toilet roll dispenser:
why do people use me and you just to wipe away the shit from their lives? 
and how, mr toilet roll dispenser, did we get here?

i start talking to the urinal
because he’s upset too
and because nobody’s cleaning us
and our eyes are bloodshot with disgust
why do people just piss all over us
and how, mr urinal, did we get here?

i have nightmares that crawl across my forehead
screaming,
and i lie here
at 7 in the morning
covered in my own spit.

  i’m just a turn of the tap away, for you. 

    washing away the guts of everybody else’s mess from my sore skin

me and the sinks are yellow
and girls are asking us if we’re okay
and although we’re vomiting all this toilet water into our hands
we want to know if they’re okay
now the sinks are orange

i sit in the stalls
head against the toilet roll dispenser:
why are we so nameless, and why are we this way?
and how, mr toilet roll dispenser, did we get here?

i am a poorly little bathroom
go ahead and wash your hands in me.