Nectarine of the gods

I am not alright with dying
I am not alright with living, either
I am stuck in the pathos in between
A purgatory of my own making
One thread, one sledgehammer of my own sins.

Some times I hate everyone. Some times I hate myself. I’m sick. I’m dizzy.

Growing peaches in the dark
Getting stoic
Going greedy.

Nectarine before the fall
Remedric after thaw
The world rushes straight, heteronormative too much
Disputes over land
Made-up histo[r]ic value,
Burying children in the sand.

Surely the gods didn’t put us here to argue but, boy, do you enjoy it.

Never mind them.
Never mind.

Growing peaches in the dark
I’m alone, I’m afraid
I myself. am independent, codependent, dismantled, complex
Slowly giving up
The world diminishing
Ending poems with an oven on my head.

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