I discovered recently that I pit my happiness on other people.
I find a person and I latch on.
Like a leech I attach myself
And suck on them until there is nothing left.
When there isn’t one iota left of them
And they say goodbye.
I am a man with a broken leg,
Grabbing those within reach and propping them up beneath him like crutches.
People these days use the word love too liberally.
I love sushi.
I love my phone.
I love you.
There is a difference between loving someone,
And being in love with someone.
Well scissor sister,
I’m in love with everyone I see.
Out of necessity really.
Because if I didn’t have you,
Who would I be?
The answer is simple,
I would be me.
Shitty, fucked up, and normal.
So let me reiterate the former.
I am nowhere without her auburn hair,
And each of her freckles on her nose alongside all the speckles on her personality that glisten when I think I’m in the dark.
I made her into a palimpsest,
I covered her over and wrote what I thought was best
And not for her.
Not for her,
And why should I care?
She left her phone in her room!
She said she be back soon!
And now I’m stuck reaching for the moon!
Like Astrophil I can’t reach you.
You control my tides and my lies and all the sides of my personality that I never knew existed until you did.
And now you don’t,
Because I painted over you and put down a self-portrait.
I am a self-absorbed Picasso ejaculating graffiti
Over your sisters and brothers and family and friends.
Just try and stop me there will be no end
To my rampage across town.
As I run my memories are going down on your skin as hickeys
Staining you like a cheap tee shirt.
You leave because you have no choice.
You must wash yourself of me,
Bleach me away with all of your colour.
Banish me to ex-boyfriend hell,
But as I go I’ll spill down your drains leaving with me
A faint odour of Clorox and hair gel.