there’s a tripwire running from my brain to heart, strung with care down my spinal column and lined with explosives

dilligently monitoring for any signs of emotional disruption from daily business

all it takes is a flutter

do you know how hard it is to operate on yourself

to rip yourself open

saw through flesh and bone

the acute agony

no worse than the feeling of watching her leave, all of the hers, dancing away into the night with the grace of ballerinas, pretty little graceful steps leaving bloody footprints down the street

the last time was the last time was the last time was the first last time in a long line of fifteenth chances

taught myself to dance as well

just do it alone in my boxers to a beat no one else can hear

now i do everything with the grace of a bolshevik dancer

drunk on denial

a classic four time waltz one two three four drifting side to side

arm extended to the air as i cradle the nothing in front of me

and i wait for the moment i feel something more than the ache of impending doom

self damnation soft shoe

so i ripped myself open and rewired my brain to go out with a bang if my heart went out with anything less than full arrest

dearly unloved

we are gathered here today not in sadness but in the memory of lingering stupidity

for he knew exactly what he was doing and had taken measures to prevent this sort of thing yet succumbed to his own weak will

let us instead mourn the hours spent listening to the sniveling whines, the need, the idiotic ramblings

look at me ma, i’m dancing as the det cord flares, dancing to the chords of silent lackadaisical malaise, twirling like there is nothing to fear but me myself

i was never here, there was nothing to hear, to hold dear

just the after image of life’s mistakes no retakes, remakes, or do overs

another set of echoed foot steps tapping out of time into nothingness, bloody footprints in the tile