Love Poem: At My Dad's, Thinking About Her
Alex Bruinekool Avatar
Written by: Alex Bruinekool

At My Dad's, Thinking About Her

Salty glass eyes,
Thimbles brimming
with summer-leaf green poison
stare back at me.

A stare chilled subzero.
I, of course, imagine this stare
is a defense mechanism to hide her troubles.
I imagine a glimmer of light
that luminates from her bust.
This is the sliver of false hope
I allow to stay under my skin,
till it should infect my blood;
and drain me,
turn my skin to paste.

I must banish this harpy on my own.

I crave nicotine;
the soothing sickness,
greater than a mother's love;
to watch my irridiant clouds
form an immaculate wart in space;
feel the grip
of the nails in my back loosen,
and the fingers that clench me
melt, drip off me,
vaporize as the drips hit the floor.

I crave Adderall,
my favorite legal amphetamine;
I want to feel the particles
as they crush under my spoon;
my blood jets through my body.
My body jtters like electroshock aftermath.
I want to feel the smooth powder
as I draw it up my nose,
and it slithers down my throat.
Oh, sharpness; Oh, clarity of mind.
I'm more sociable;
maybe I'll meet someone new.
No matter;
she could love my best friend,
and I'll love them both tonight.
I come down;
questions of life and its worth engorge me.
My heart cramps.
My inner child leaves
to play with someone better.
I decide I'm worthless and should die;
but, I've not the guts to do it.

I crave heroin.
Snorted it before,
but that's not enough.
I want my man to tie a belt
around my bicep, pull it tight,
watch the veins pop from my forarm;
so eager they are.
Drain-up a near lethal dose.
Metal dips under flesh,
penetrates my bloodstream.
A ferocious orgasm
circulates through my system.
I no longer care if she cares or not.
I care not if I die;
at least it'll be in peace.
The bombs drop
The rockets exchange.
Self-induced extinction,
and my mind is smooth.

Seems she had good reason;
though, I will miss he raven hair,
the way it swayed over me,
how soft it felt when i held it in my fist.
I will miss her strong thighs,
how they felt wrapped around me;
how her perfect chest felt against mine.

I suppose an extra meal,
a chocolate chip cookie, or two,
and a caffine buzz,
followed by a handful of Melatonin
will have to do.