BODY AS CAR-STRUCK DEER
I ruin beauty. Crumpling underneath lights,
it doesn’t take much to crush them. Turn the
world dark again. Blunt force, heat in the stomach.
Life as constant bleeding we pretend we cannot
smell. Iron tastes like progress; I poison the stock,
my tongue black with corrosion. I eat at my body
like a starved animal, soft pink and bruising.
I’m just like you; wondering where it all went
wrong, forced to the ground only when it’s too late.
It always is; I lick the salt of the earth and thirst for
something more. I don’t have to live with it but
I still need to survive, and isn’t that the cruellest
kind of comfort? Knowing my body against yours
could kill us both, but not knowing who’ll go
first. My blood mixed with yours, unable to taste
myself. We don’t know who we are without the
other. You couldn’t exist without me to give you
reason to brake. How do I say I don’t want your pity
without sounding more pathetic than I already am.
Neck against tire isn’t enough; you need to step on
it if you can still walk, remind me of our existence.
Destruction entails being alive, or else it’s no fun.
Why kill what’s already dead? There’s no glory in
stillness, eyes opened towards the sky. Despite is
the hardest thing to be. Who are you despite me?
Despite the way I’ve curled around your destruction
instead of my own? Look at the damage I caused
despite myself; how you survived despite yourself.
Once, a deer leapt in front of my father’s best friend’s car,
turned itself inside out and took the front bumper with it.
You say you survived as if I didn’t let you.