Hazard Suits and Water Bottles

Hazard Suits and Water Bottles

The hunger pangs again,
but I still don’t feel the need to eat.
So I take another water bottle,
and I down half of it.
My throat protests
as it feels the liquid pass it,
for it knows that I am falsely
giving it a delicate reprieve.

I know I could hurt them if they knew,
but for now, they don’t.
And I’ll keep it that way
‘til the urge dies down,
‘til I don’t feel the burning desire, love
for the one I can’t have,
‘til I don’t want to cut every
little problem away, to make my outsides
match the in.

I can’t get through this without you,
but I can never tell you,
for always, it is your turn to talk.
And in the manual of job details
of whatever it is that I am to you,
friend, lover, punching bag,
it tells me not to step up and stop you.
But I don't try to anyway.

Because you control me whether or not
you know it, and I cannot, and will not
back down from that responsibility and
privilege. But you can’t control what
it is that I do to myself.

I suppose it would be easier if you could.

 

(A puppetgirl with no strings.
 I’m in a hazard suit,
but you clamped the oxygen hose.
You take off my mask, but hold
my lips and nose shut.
You jeer as I beg for air,
then with a searingly right kiss,
 you pass some air to me,
then you return me to begging,
until you lean in again.)

(Why do I love you?)

Author's Note

So this is a bit...all over, I guess. I'm in a weird place right now. Everything on here is true. I feel all over. Comments?

Reviews

[Moonflower]

This was a very heart felt piece, brimming with raw emotion and heart ache. Great writing, hope things get better for you dear.