tipping, tipping
find the tiles.

the finebonechina tea cup topples from the skies. i slip to the floor, in my pyjamas & a pair of rubber gloves. my arms wrap themselves around my knees. fingers scatter. water. find a shard under the oven. slippery. press my rubber flesh into those tiny flakes. foam. take the largest fragment of cleanwhite, examine it under the kitchen lights. it is so pure & flawless, even while dripping in soap suds & water. i throw it back down to the floor, watch it shatter over again.

smashing the china at midnight.

you make me feel sick with those cellophane excuses, with that attempt at ammending it all. dirtdirtdirt.

crying over dirty dishes.

lusting after something to do. eyes feeling raw. i can't sleep. i can't sleep. wishes being answered. forgetting my last dream. wondering when you'll make your final blow.

you're taking up my time.

i'm on the floor.
surrendered an empire,
all the egyptian riches.
just take the knife
out of my back &
push it through
my chest.

it's all i ever asked of you.