That pregnant bitch of a world

I’m in a cocoon, wrapped in self-doubt and misery,
Wondering why everyone tells me to give up on you,
That one year is too long to wait,
That you never felt anything for me,
That it all was just a pipe dream,
Something that the Caterpillar made up
To distract Alice from her task at hand.
(I thought, nay, I know, my task is you…
and a Pandora bit of hope still has faith in that, in you)KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

Waiting for you to come to a decision is sheer hell.
I am completely immobilized by waiting to hear from you.
Wanting to hear from you.
Missing you.
Missing our games of Scrabble,
While discussing the finer nuances of kitchen bitching,
And games of 52 pick up with wasabi peas and chopsticks.

What happened that everything came to a full stop,
When things were rolling merrily along?
They’re going like a bloody nose now,
Fast and furious,
And twisted pieces of tissue stuffed up nostrils.
I feel like a bloody walrus.
Why did one piece of news suddenly narrow in your world,
So that you felt your future rapidly diminish?
The only certainties that I can offer are support, friendship, acceptance, and trust.
And aren’t those enough?

I am sacrificing chickens to the gods,
So that you have the courage to accept those certainties,
And I am turning sacrifices into stews
Meant to be slurped in cold September rains.
I won’t really eat them in the rain;
No, I’ll sit and slurp, and watch the drizzle
Wash the pigeon shit off of my patio,
And wonder whether I can still wriggle my toes,
When my soul seems to have succumbed to frostbite.

You are making me re-evaluate everything,
this very moment in time.
I want my future twinned to yours,
strands of a silken rope tied to a bed,
in a nautical knot,
bodies writhing in ecstasy.
And if that is not meant to be,
Then I must go forth into that pregnant bitch of a world,
And look for meaning in the cups of old men,
Whose beards bear the mark of the last dregs of wine from the vat.

But before all that,
Before I kneel at the altar of remorse and self-pity,
Bedecked in withered roses,KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA
Smelling faintly of the salty tang of the sea,
I will keep faith,
In you,
That all that excrement and misery,
Will be staid by your hand,
At your command,
And I will be for you,
And you for me.



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