Everything I could ever know of you
is just another variation on a theme.
Even your bones acknowledge
their stereotypes as they,
like newly wakened zombies,
try to dig themselves out of your skin.

You're so charming, with your toe-tag,
your implements of self-defeat.
You're so beautiful, with your kisses
that taste like funereal dirt.

You're the ashes that scatter down the street,
deconstructed, finally, by a pitiless autumn wind.

10/23/2005

Author's Note: It's either about me, or it's about him, or it's about all of the "I hate myself, I wanna die" one-trick ponies of the world. I haven't decided.

Posted on 10/24/2005
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Blair