Ipecac by Anthony Valade
Take this all down to the last bite.
Regurgitate everything held in mind.
Throat on fire, hopeless surprise.
Cope?
What’s the point if it’s all a lie.
Raising temperature,
Past the pressure,
Taking it to the last stop of revenge or climatic soul stalking, residential.
Cough, sewer spit wars.
Tongue and run, can’t get enough of those nights of course.
Oil it up and burn it out.
Don’t want to be in this body now.
If this could be different,
I’d set you on fire with spirits.
Too much poison, sounding like a rabid cat.
Squirming and screaming,
Get it out!
You can’t!
So what’s the music or what’s the anthem of this confinement count?
Chemical doses cost us to lose out.
Nostalgic cannibalistic integrity.
Wish you knew what you really mean.
Essential lifestyle with what they see.
Calming expressions,
My legs feel weak.
I wish I stopped killing myself last week.
Response Piece, Grounded by Rebecca Parker
