synaesthesia
your voice is just
machines for remembering
just gears grinding
just another pop song’s conflict
bubbling to the surface
more soda than soup though
artificial sweeteners too
where the fight is for love
your sugary blows bend my ear
an elastic trauma
of screams so proud
rage barely registers
unlike the volume of your affection
can noise be iridescent
new love's beautiful I don’t give a fuck
about anything but you
became
who the fuck do you think you are
at the drop of a hat
imagine that
eyes closed
spitting in my face
hello wet dreams
your friends were in stitches
while you dressed me down
a clown chorus
a tattered symphony of hackles
not every mantra is whispered
or brings good karma
it mattered to you that I hear you
that I listened to you
that I let you speak
but you did all the talking
the ringing of my ears stopped
long enough to figure out
the frequency of blows matched
the cadence of your most tender kisses
a plot twist
with a three piece suit
and no place to go
aren’t we too old for this
my ears pitch to the window
desperate to hear birdsong
there was only the chicken scratch
coming home to roost
the pop singers and pop songs you loved so much
acronym anthems about love
call me outta my name
spicy pseudonyms and sobriquets
but I’m not your hot sexy thing okay
not yours
not hot
not sexy
not okay