Discoloration

Revisions
Revisions of time, time and memory
Gravel, disturbed, reins in on unrest
And the dryness of History moves forward.
Heat, swallowed. Swallowed in deep succession
Volatile process, wading into burnt reminiscence
Parched from the crunch of insolent misgivings
To vomit here is natural, but I suck in the dredge- deeper

In past the belly this time
Into the purgatorial wait, of a limbo locked in shit.

Who was I, in a field of unbleached titanium?
Barefoot again, and agreeable amidst the expanse of his freckled back.
He was yelling in the quiet, exasperated by his own insignificance
A projection he pawned off on me, as I moped about my own day in dutiful charm.
Those days at the lake, he drank in too much shortage
And allowed himself to believe in the philosophy of shame.
I am here today, wasting more time,
Adrift in the disoriented efficacy that he thumped onto my back.

There is no equilibrium in this dark set of pessimism.
Gulping down rot after rot, in the hope that if, swallowed promptly-
I can shit it out and away in due time.
To regurgitate these dismal emotional focal points
Is to dishonor the theory behind why I move on.
Continually wiping the ass of caustic unhappiness
Deforms the willingness to restore the optimistic morning.

It can't always be this way.
And it isn't. Thank fuck.

Follow the exit sign, Woman.
Walk away from the discoloration of those times
That fuel regret like a piss-starved, dehydrated cunt.
What words 'these days' hand to me,
To better articulate the rape of my heart.
I peel away from all notions that keep me cordial
An instead, exert the inertia of this cock-sucking hell that I roam into when I'm bold in my weakness.

I am purging myself of this emotional stench
Compliant to the urge of "Freedom of Speech"
And yet how I loathe this effective cruelty
Of killing my kindness with the brutal recollection of times - long lost.