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.

Forward.
Forward.
Never mind them.
Forward.
Forward.
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.


OTHER POEMS BY ETHAN LESLEY CC | CLICK HERE TO VIEW ALL || poetry, The Green Sun
 
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