The Fiddleback

Back to top I crawl in the oven and wait for an invitation.
I yell boo at everybody because I'm paranoid as a bat.
I bake like a holiday, involuntarily.
I cancel my chances like a padlock.

-

There are just two possible beliefs in the world: confetti or deadlines.
People adapt to losses I can't even pronounce every day.
I imagine them in limbo, strong and diseased
(but only by my weak definition).

-

My eyes will vomit my insides forever.
I'll only have sex anonymously, at the top of a totem pole.
So yes, I'm furious I'm shaving my head to show you everything,
how my genetics stink like an orphanage.

-

My insides will regurgitate themselves for a very, very long time.
I'll read books about nothing I want.
Grow a beard to hide my anger and intolerance.
Name you in descending order until you float again.



--------
Peter Schwartz's words have appeared in Wigleaf, Opium, and The Columbia Review. He's also an artist, comedian, and dedicated kayaker. More at www.sitrahahra.com.

 

Volume 1, Issue 7 Back to top