Poetry / Nuclear Valley (Analysis)
I’m so tired of swinging your direction
Telephone static never tasted so sour
When it’s not followed by an answer
Up on such wires I can’t stop speaking
Shaking
Swinging from chains looking for answer in the electricity
Staring at a you-sized hole in my bed
Where I remember the curve of your shoulder touched your neck
As you stared back at me
And a tiny little island
In the iris of your eye
Eroded with each passing wave
And every word unspoken led to a fissure in your arm
Bleeding over the sides of the levies
Of the great Miami
Pouring mud and neutrons out onto the valley where we laid ourselves to waste
I’m so tired of whispering endearments to myself
Laid out for lack of saying them to anyone else
And convulsing in the shadow of the telephone wires
Tried on such weak means I can’t stop screaming
Labyrinthine
Locked in such mazes searching for a monster at the center
You’re Staring at a me-sized hole in your bed
Remembering every time your calloused finger touched my neck
And you sighed at me
And a tiny little fracture
In the crook of my arm
Exploded with each frustrated sigh
And every infuriated word whispered led to a fissure in my mind
Bleeding over the boundary of my eyes
Onto your own mind
Pouring blood and misery in the valley where we laid ourselves to waste
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