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May 30, 2014 Poetry

Year Twenty Two

Zachary Cosby

Year Twenty Two photo

I
     
i dedicate this poem
to the first 15 years
of the twenty first century.
it's name is "citrus".
i call it that
because I can't remember
its real name,
or anything else about it,
really.
     
                          dry heave into buckets
                          fall asleep during "con air"
                          drag disposable blades across skin
                          drug stash falling apart
                          feel "it" collapse inside you
                          we are simply unreal
                          like car crashes
                          and unbuckled seatbelts
                          ugly ugly ugly ugly
                          is everyone you know.
     
that's it. "citrus".
or, as much of it
as i can remember.
     
zachary cosby,
you are a terrible liar
and you know that is not true.

     
okay.
it really went:
     
                          "citrus”
        
                          maybe we can retire my lips
                          as a gesture of goodwill towards those
                          i have previously wronged.
     
                          they will live out their final days
                          in warm dreams or memories
                          of slow motion melting against others.
     
                          the ghosts they birthed
                          will live on as radiation burns
                          on the skin of children.
     
                          the earth is a disgusting thing.
                          i hope we never come back.
     
II
     
this is a forest fire of
paper cigarette ebooks dog
feces coffee street litter cables
reducing my head
to charred neurons stumps
and ash habitats.
     
once, we found romance
in the glow of your celly­cell's
fleshlight app.
     
all hard drives crashing
and jpegs corrupting
into a cloudy static poem
that read:
     
                          CANCEROUS SUBJECTIVITY
     
                          blue screens of death
                                       flash inside your eyes
     
                          digital flowers bloom
                                       black between our thighs
          
III
     
organisms fight for resource.
wet breath hold me underwater.
cellular sing sing hymnal drone.
             (another goddamn poem, this time untitled    
                          ha ha, ha ha, ha ha, ha ha
                          ha ha, ha ha, ha ha, ha.....)
reptile foam in every mouth.
claw against glass.
bodies shed large segments.
it’s all caught on webcam.
i’m livestreaming for only you.

IV
     
even those things
that i want
i don't really want.
     
i think
I'm trying to say
that i want
to stop wanting.
         
avoid
like a void
trying to swallow
another void.
     
V
     
he whispers:
i want to leave you with a virus
that doesn't scrape off

he does
it won't

 

image: Aaron Burch


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