blood type

i don’t know my blood type

if something happened and i needed that knowledge for a transfusion i would say

she is my blood type, she is the fluid flowing through my veins, my vanity, she is my type, she is the current that shifts, as she grows near it rises, races, pumps a million times a second until there is nothing left but that infinite, indefinite, finite distance between

i would say that if you looked closely enough at the liquid seeping from my body, closer, closer, closer, you would see her reflected in the pool of crimson as it turns black

i don’t know my blood type

i know my type and she doesn’t fit that mold, she does not encapsulate the things i have always looked for, she is different than every other woman i ever sought

maybe i was always the problem, maybe i chose wrong every single time because i did not know what it was i truly sought

i don’t know myself very well

i know i am left handed even if my writing is illegible, i know i am not a big fan of chocolate, i don’t like sardines or anchovies or most seafood because i never ate it as a kid and don’t know if any of it is good, or if it all tastes like salt and rot

i know that butterscotch is delicious

i know my tastes run a bit towards the Macabre, towards the Dark, towards the Inappropriate
but i could not tell you my blood type

i know i would rather burn a bridge than double back, i know i would rather nuke a bridge before admitting that, i know i would torch the crops and salt the earth instead of asking for help

i know that i would rather stick a needle into my ear than never hear her voice, that i would puncture my ear drums if her’s were the last words i heard

i know the reverb of the last failed attempt is distant and hardly haunting any more

i can tell you my favorite color is lilac purple from the bush outside of my teenage home

i know that the gray of the clouds right before they burst forth with rain is my second favorite color

i know every single ex’s birthday and still think of them on those days

i can still remember all the words to far too many albums i haven’t heard in ages

i don’t know my blood type though, and if asked i would say it is her

i know my favorite meal is my mother’s ham and scalloped potatoes, my ex-wife’s spinach lasagna, my ex-girlfriends tikka masala

i know i have drawn more the last two months than the last twenty years

i know my head aches, my allergies are acting up, my body has not felt this good in years, my knees do not ache unless it is going to rain and i wouldn’t care because looking up at my second favorite color is true joy

i know that i miss home very bad, no idea why, haven’t really thought of it since dad died and i swore to never return, maybe i want pizza, maybe i want to feel the winter air as i walk across the frozen river, hoping that the ice cracks and i

i don’t know my blood type

i know the back roads we would drive and drink and laugh and sing

i know my best friends have moved on to bigger and better things and i took myself out of those equations because they deserve to be happy

i know my intentions are noble but my heart is impure and i could never pet the unicorn or pull the sword from the stone or

tell you my blood type

i know my favorite books are twenty thousand leagues under the sea and two bags more of assorted tales and authors

i know my favorite rapper is POS, my favorite rock band is the misfits, and my favorite poet is


i remember my first kiss, it was wonderful, my first time having sex, it was far too quick but i was a champ and went again immediately

i remember being shown the proper way to pleasure a woman, practice practice practice ever since

i remember my first crush, my first date, my first real book, again twenty thousand leagues under the sea in first grade

i remember hating one of my best friends at first but bonding over lemon pudding at lunch and saying it came out of the lunch lady’s nether bits, we cackled and crowed and never got any of that delicious pudding again

i remember so much, yet know so little

i wish i knew my blood type

i wish she didn’t control my blood like the moon over the tide

or she would see me, not this rapidly falling apart meat suit, but me, the one inside screaming for her lips and tongue, and she could cut me open and lick the wound and then whisper into my ear

my blood type

5 thoughts on “blood type

  1. my god. This is …. yeah. I haven’t the words to properly express how utterly magnificent this is. Perhaps I do have some words. I’ll keep them to myself. But this is really very good.

    Liked by 1 person

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