I set my feet on it still
feeling sickly, slowly forcing
my mouth to accept the vile
tiramisu made by the german
roommate in the kitchen allowing the bottom
of the spaghetti to soften before the
top, temporary obsessive compulsive
until he finally folds the sticky
tops down into the erupting silver
water, reminding me of the death of things, my heels
finding it difficult to slide off of its wood-
-en surface getting caught on the corner
which could at any moment reveal
the vampire who,
that which the blurry faced roommate has been
keeping, dad unaware
this wasn’t a joke, sitting us down to watch
clue, tim curry’s teeth in my memory
murder, though now I love him like
dr frankenfurter and nigel the wild thornberry, remember
its blackness like a rough disease laughing and the wig
hanging from the wall cousin it, up the stairs
the only prevention of its evil I stab my middle finger
into the dark to face it,
“fuck you you fucking
demon
fuckers I know you’re there get the FUCK
away from me,”
and I am barely three
hastily climbing, hold
my bladder rusting till morning.
pictures of pink underwear
red nails
ripped off
fingers
in the closet
on the bureau,
never had to be
afraid
of clowns in
dad’s first apartment.
No comments:
Post a Comment