Devon Thinks She'd Be A Good Candidate For A Lobotomy

Devon thinks she'd be a good candidate for a lobotomy

i tell Devon I'm glad we exist simultaneously

she asks me if I'm going to art school

regret wraps itself around my no

devon shows me her art

she turns her art teacher into Christ at the last supper

she asks if we're all fucked

i didnt know the context but the answer was obvious

yes

she teaches me about my eyes

in the stories we tell about ourselves we're the antagonists

we play supervillain so we can pretend we are not hurt

violent fantasies bely vicious vociferosity

i tell Devon we're like convergent evolution

different formulas but the conclusion remains the same

devon tells me she disliked me because i was interesting

devon compliments me

devon doesnt intend to

this used to be something else

the house i grew up in is a different house now

house to ashes to house again

the house we lived in after burnt down in the fifties

seventy years ago the house i lived in used to be a different house

this is your land

it used to be something else

then we changed it

now we're leaving

so it's your turn

I'm thinking about that old country house

it's lawn disappearing beneath black walnuts

and orange leaves

it used to be something else

in the back are two burnt out sheds

beside them, a pile of lumber, overgrown with sagebrush and goathead vines

somebody tried to build something here

they're gone now

and slowly the evidence is disappearing

lost time (parentheses)

this is a love story told in parenthesis

(this love story is: an interlude, an aside, a digression)

I'm driving from yakima to tacoma

(all i can think about is how much i love you)

i do the math

(pinpointing exactly when i get to you)

my car clock says ten forty

my map says

in eleven miles turn right

at sixty five miles an hour

(barely speeding)

i need to turn right when my car clock reads ten fifty one

when my car clock reads ten fifty one

the time will be four fifty seven

(this planet is five hours and fifty five minutes ahead)

two weeks ago that meant four more hours of sunlight

(today that means i get where I'm going at dusk)

in less than twenty four hours i convinced myself you would choose me

(things are different now that I'm back)

tell me how you feel

"this is the most fun I've had in a long time"

late night phone calls

(make me your secret)

tell me you want me

(why is it that the only things i ever have to offer are my words and my body)

i wanted to be your everything

(I'll settle for anyone's anything)

i picked you up from work

(i timed my departure so i could get there as you get off)

lets stay out all night

(i don't want to lose a second with you)

somehow i feel like I've convinced you that you love me

(I've convinced myself that you're convinced that you love me)

you told me you don't think I'm complicated

(i think it's time for me to go)

I'm driving from tacoma to yakima

(and all i can think about is how much i hate myself)

someone that left

escape artist meets escapist artist

out of towner

I didn't know you long enough to fall as hard as i did

leave then

muskogee then yakima then

what

elsewhere

like lightning I'll watch you follow the path of least resistance

somehow that means a quick and quiet egress

fine then

not like i didnt live twenty years before you

still

a shared cigarette during the first cold snap

you and i inches apart in a parked car in a parks parking lot well past sunset

next to one another at mcdonalds

two empty seats across from us

you liked that i write

i wrote this about you

you asked me what being in love meant to me

someone who makes me feel something I've never felt before

id never felt lonely on behalf of another person

I'm grieving in your absence like you'll ever be somewhere that feels like home again

I'm mad that you ran away so i don't feel sad that you left

leave then

i still wish i could've asked you to stay

hi my name's Ex, I'm new to tumblr, i write poetry and make art, my poetry mainly centers around being young and mentally ill. I'm using this as a place to store my poems.

selling art

Redbubble

ExMeansWithOut Shop | Redbubble

ExMeansWithOut is an independent artist creating amazing designs for great products such as t-shirts, stickers, posters, and phone cases.

Kurt teaches me about machines

syndeys book, firsthand first now secondhand tells me a story about a man losing his mind

the words tell tale of human machines - the arrangement of the words (carefully placed thus so) tell me of psychidelic travels which, before not too long ago would have been unrecognizable to me

kurt has kilgore trout have god tell anyone that they're the only sentient being in the universe

kurt has dwayne hoover take it personally

kurt has dwayne bite kilgores finger clean off

through time and space i feel kurts idiosyncracies match my own

i line them up artificially

so it goes