I break myself into pieces, plunging into a pool of broken Tam Tams, where I belong.
I’m inside of you now. I don’t know if you’ll have me, but you promise wholeness, and I never do. Yet disappointment from you still tastes like everything. You’ve always come to me broken. I’ve been an inconvenient consumer, smearing your surfaces with unholy liver, while searching for a lover, as I lie beside another. A shameful smudge on my pillow I’ll try to clean later. You come in a box, I come in a smile, I’m thinking about prosciutto. Your broken bodies don’t bother you. Your purpose hasn’t changed; you still give me everything so I excuse the inconvenience. I erase inconvenience at an optional crosswalk. I won’t signal, I’ll wait till there is no car to illegally run across, so they won’t have to stop. We’re strangers to one another, but I’ve become less trouble, by breaking into tiny bits of everything I’ve lost myself. I don’t taste like everything when I am broken, my breath is sour with a fraudulence I alone know. Maybe if I’m here long enough, your lessons will linger, and I’ll learn how to be everything, even as I break, even as I am broken.

Header image design/artwork by Orly Zebak. 

No Comments Yet

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

Can’t get enough? Subscribe!