Cyanide-laced gum

1.)

He’s mature for my age,
With intensity he can dial up
And back on a whim.

The ease you can smell
A thinking doily by
Pacing alone.

He never overextends his
Smiles to seconds, he
Could waste into darkness.

Dankness, glum, like goth-like, moth-like, om-like
Spitting at the toilet lights and caught
Up with the world I don’t want

To have to carry the name of a family
That hovered ‘bove me like citadel of self-appointed
Characteristically uncaring gods, I’d rather

Pour molters onto scabs insidious, I’m serious
I want a life lived inconsequential.
I want one less reminder of fanged

Doves, success suckers, apathetic universities,
Friends too high-horsed-to-be-bothered, and
Never have to hear them say again, see their

Faces again, mention them again.
I want to dance on top of obelisk blue, rising
With lights– distant and unmoving

With you, I’m tripping in outer space.
I apologize for projecting– You were just
There– Wrong place, wrong time– antinomy of wrong timings.

A faceless
Sounding board,
My faceless pounding slore.

Extensio to my constant
Consonant mistakes– I’ll keep doing you,
And men like you.

Parang unending movers,
Head under
Sand.

My only company kept are lowly creatures, therefore myself,
And what’s bad for myself,
Bad, bad Ethanistan.

2.)

I never get to remember how relationships end. They just do.
Some times the noir is more interesting that its characters.
Some times, I’m only in it for the dramadventure, too.

But do they know the kind of person I truly am and what I think I deserve?
I’m just the kind of figurine everyone give gifts to. It’s always been
That way. I don’t know, it must be the way I reconsider my gait,

My height proportion, my smile, my similes, my calculated coy, all my
Signals, verbal and nonverbal, like I’m some ballerino raising and sinking
Funds. Hey, they never asked me. Me, I would have given much of my nothings if they asked.

Funny, in our household, it was practically illegal
For the children to do chores, which pretty much
Explains everything about me and how I like to be served.

I’ve never mopped the house, never learned how to cook rice,
Never done my own laundry, never paid for nothing.
It had been the ways of my lazy upbringing that caused the no-wonders of how

I’m a lazy lover,
Lazy student, lazy friend, lazy employer, boss, nouveau worker.
Never truly considered having neighbores. They were just

There when I moved in. I blast my speakers to their highest
And cackle my brown cackle to my other-ly stirred shows
And make them all try to sleep soup with pillows over heads.

Come noon, I will go down to the amenity pool, flirt with the
Amenity pool boy and develop my amenity tan lines,
Promise to read me a classic and end with some trashy YA.

Who needs to learn how to kill some canary, cure cockatoo, when only abs can make
That skimpy little borta freak lie willing and hungry on my bed?
I’ll plow that skunk skull all aftie, make him mine though I don’t deserve him.


OTHER POEMS BY ETHAN LESLEY CC | CLICK HERE TO VIEW ALL || Burgundahlia, poetry
 
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