overocea | (no subject)

she began my day
with the spider veins,
she said
it was symbolic.
stretched and driven by spikes,
against a wall.
she said
this was to be my daily regimen.
writhing,
my nightly exercise.
nightmares,
my daily daydreams.
her fingers
shifting inside my skin,
my flesh would wilt and crackle,
her fingertips
would pierce my wrist
and curl themselves around a vein,
pulling it taut,
cupping it blocked.
with emotion
she would begin with a snip
as one part popped,
and another part ripped.

i,
lacking a sane response,
was screaming of course.
my lungs eaten hollow,
i could see the sound inside them.
it was quite blasphemous.
perhaps
if the spikes were driven,
driven inside my eyes,
i would not have to see such lunacy,
i would only feel the dream.
as the the vein grew tight,
my mind grew white,
and with a tender jerk,
it ripped up past my elbow
and approached my eyeless nest of
angry bees,
furiously buzzing
an inhuman wail.
still,
clearer than ever before,
wondering as it hadn't,
as she stole tastes of their honey
why we must be shattered

and she answered:
i shatter you for the greater good.
that the world would be a prettier place.
for, as they say
"were it not for all the shitty poetry in the world,
would we truly recognize the beautiful?"

the bees only coughed,
and she sighed.

there was nothing about you especially interesting.
nothing i saw in you of any true value.
i suppose,
you could say,
that i simply wasn’t attracted to you.
therefore,
by my logic,
i must inflict suffering on you.
you also irritated me slightly,
i must admit.