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Antarctica
by Erika Hommel
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I've been picking scabs again
every time my life gets together
I start picking it apart
I forgot how good it feels to starve,
so I'm
building the wall
after you
raped my sensory systemic sensitivity
after foaming fucking screams
causing bubbles to explode in
depths dipping nowhere beyond your
acknowledgment of my inability
to see your tricky teasing as anything
less than cutting me off below the knees
then complain about me not being
independent enough for your likes?
Well then I can't balance my checks
can I?
building the wall
after you
who said love the gods and devils
that growl just below the surface
but you just pushed off that wall
didn't you? You just said we both
know we need to sail on, if you could
read, you would wish I was dead,
building the wall
after you
who throws my head in between
steel drums till my ears creak with
your mistakes and then complain about
the gas and medical bills,
building the wall
after you
who said he would carry my cross
and then burned it on my
front lawn,
building the wall
after you,
oh perfect Catholic girls
who's hair is always real tight
and their jeans sown on right
reflecting asinine social ladders
in the salvia rolling down disintegrating
temptation to join the parade ending
the universe;
well I refuse to fuck you
over,
I refuse to let you trick me
into it again,
you don't believe me,
well I can't believe it,
instead of helping me out,
a lending hand out of my shell,
you hammered my frighten flesh
back on home and I refuse to play
so I'm building the wall
brick, cement, giggles, ash, genetics,
smoke, mirrors and never you,
I'm cutting the cord,
I'm building the wall.
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