if i look at you now
my sentiment is this: teeth shatter,
i cower up like a dying dog
sweat trickling down my forehead like beady arrows
aiming for my
stomach growling to expedite you from my guts.
you are my swelling guilt
my mistakes past midnight
your charm, and modest provenance
drew me in inconspicuously
a dance as natural as
one fancied danced before
within the realm of predictability
yet like every dress
you hid a petticoat
far too hideous for your own reticence
my curiosity unknowingly nudging on your calves
eager to devour you
conviction and all
among my ribs you grow now
a slithering skin inside of mine
a parasite upon my flesh
as i turn into a jumbled mess of melting marrow
you wrestle control over my
willing joints
i fret at your presence,
at my own yearning,
our past and future
your journey to my lips proved far too fruitful
: we manifest as juxtapositioned beings
being better off
your worst enemy
swearing:
never having you tread the curves of my arteries again
i light a candle to my own folly
every damn time
Text: Beate Björkengren
Image: Zola Gorgon
Skärselden 