Modern Art

Document
Cover Image

I scream in my sleep and pretend I don’t have a voice when my eyes are open


My voice drips down the back of my throat like melting wax


I’m cheap cloth on a wireframe skeleton


Held together with expensive thread
I have this rotary motor that pushes oil like tar through the plastic veins of my body


I’m recycled straws and partially melted containment organs


When I smile the corners of my makeshift mouth leak gasoline
I’m spot-welded metal and rusted spray-paint cans
I am disposable modern art, in the back of this gallery


I find myself drowning down vodka and orange juice, my liquid mood stabilizer


I try to keep the worst parts of me in check to avoid becoming the reflection of the illuminated screen
I’m a train wreck inside


The more I talk, the less I feel


I’d like to bleed morphine and cheap malt liquor


I dream of injecting a brand new me under the scars of my arm, deep underneath the dead track of a former addiction


I used to push my love through a needle


I’ve traded my worst parts for the love of you


I’ve scattered around the pages of a notebook


I speak from the heart when I speak of you


My heart


A muscle I refused to feed or acknowledge



I drained the chambers of this rusted machine, and you filled it with new blood.

Created: Apr 16, 2014

Tags: poetry

Nobody'sSomebody Document Media