false spring

3/15/2026 | LENT

we’re twitching critters
cozied up under the rug
waiting for it to be yanked from o’er us

and I’m perfect and out of my mind and you love it
just biding my time
until I escape the States
for the season or just a week

and when you hit that bright nerve
I start to smell like se... ntiment(!)
and I feel American

and for the longest time
since last year
around this time
around this time today
I’ve been growing new veins,
organs in place no scientists know

and the sentiment of it all 
makes me sick to my bones
and I can’t get enough of it, but I’ll let it
walk me home, let it plant those seeds in my throat
	(fuck you and fuck me this shit is far too on the nose)

Fifty days without a bleed
was the gift you gave to me 
this time last year,
while you crawled up in my skull
and drained me 
down to the quick. 

AND I spent this summer
heavily self-medicated
with a heavy head
alone and with my knees bent

But I’ve got better women in my life. See: my best friends (meine Traumfrauen), whom I call the curved mirror images of my soul—perfect and soft, and I’d be lost without them.

and I shed no sober salt for you
I’ve been rewriting your name
striking it from the archives
with one who bears the same

but this springtime sickness has you echoing fresh
so I take refuge in older songs
and I do not think about what went wrong