i h a v e
h e a v y
b o o t s
This love of spines and kneecaps and collarbones is serious business.
This love is like building tree houses from an empty forest,
except you are burning down the house and making the forest hollow again.
You are false confidence and snow drifts whittling themselves down
to icicles sharper than saw blades; you are hacking away at yourself
until there is nothing left. Let’s hope you rot in hell.
The way you make women fall for you with promises
of skinny sweetness and size zero jeans isn’t just falling-
it’s skydiving without a parachute, leaping from an office building
so hard and so fast that the only thing left on the ground is blood and guts.
The way you love the women you prey on isn’t love.
So put down your bow and arrow. Put down your slingshot.
Lower the gun, empty the bullets, blunt the knife.
You need to stop sinking your teeth into healthy flesh
with the goal of turning it into a stinking carcass.
Flesh is always beautiful before it sinks away into bone
like Pangaea disintegrating into the ocean.
Accept that. Accept that.
This isn’t love. What you’re doing is hate.