Anthropomorphic Me


When we expose our innermost sighs to be resigned to your fate,
“When you look closely at anything familiar, it transmogrifies into something unfamiliar.”

The sensible yet farcical mistake
was man made in haste
He walks off
Not a broken man
But weakened

And she knows nothing
Of herself to stop
him
as transmogrified
their love

She doesn’t know what to do with the bleeding remnants of all the heart she already gave and bled for profusely in more ways than one

Why does she always remember Sylvia Plath’s sticking her head in an oven to die but cannot remember how her much bigger idol Anne Sexton did herself in coz she always envisions her as Anne Bancroft in The Graduate
and thusly somehow making it

While Sylvia was such the poster child for a pre-Don-Draper beat poets man’s world where wives killed themselves over unfaithful husbands, a repeat of Dr. Frankenstein in the ninth.

I will not die for this man who could easily kill me I cannot assure that I would actually succeed being as I don’t really want to do it yet the stormy seas of depression induced by cerebral cortex changes to the brain made when a child gets taken advantage of so young that the whole thing’s a mess from the get-go

And she cries
but she doesn’t know why
for the man
who wanted more
At the grocery store
who reminded her
of the confusing confessional
impulse
Of a bottle rocket
What was that
Such pain
Such sorrow
Continuous

A loss
Fortuitous
If
I sleep
through it

The large majority of people are asleep and do not wish to wake up. –

Vincent Van Gogh

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