Monday, July 4, 2011


*Written in the voice of a man crumbling over his crumbled relationship.


This is
the relationship she gave up on
the something inside saying “Don’t go”
the close friends outside saying “Let go”
the loneliness I feel—
the lazy wheels carrying my weary mind
the GPS failing to detect my dissected soul
the idea of closure on the curb with a flat tire
the wrecked thoughts
the reeking feelings—
the alcohol punching down my esophagus
the liquid burns racing for the finish line
the brain tallying the 1st 2nd & 3rd degrees
the liver failing to detoxify my memories
the ignored drunk texts and phone calls
the clogged inbox
the aborted response
the interrogation of my hammered savior
the nail the coffin
the jail the coughing
the plug pulled from my god’s respirator
the lines of communication turned off
the switch on my heart turned off-beat
the love                  smacking concrete.

This is
the eroded smile I wear nowadays
the plaque painting over my teeth
the brushed-off dental appointments
the greedy decay drilling nerve-deep
the money shutting up and walking
the bullshit slowing down and talking
the mouth—martyred into a septic tank
the languished language
the wretched stank
the compost I compose to exhale fresh prose
the cons of the odds evened out by my plague
the history of my people’s undying Dark Age
the memento: the shadow shackled to our souls
the soles weathered flat by life-laden bones
the bacteria teeming under my feet
the smell of vinegar crawling from my toes
the fermenting socks and drawers I’ve worn all week
the cemented nails I haven’t clipped in months
the pungent hairs where my inner-thighs meet
the shower head’s holey grin and sacred spit
the water laughing at the genetic sin in my skin
the stain
the shame I can’t seem to scrub off
the cuts the clots the scab-like pain
the broken valves the open veins
the gagging shower drain.

This is
the reflection in the mirror avoiding eye contact
the bums not even asking for change.



Abir Ibrahim said...

I love how you literary wrote MY thoughts into YOUR words.

Rob Gibson said...

Ah! Then the circuit of poet to reader/audience is complete! Being real with myself was one of the hardest things to do. Yet one of the most freeing.