Uboa
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Poetry (11/11/18)
🕑 Added 2018-11-11 07:15:49 +0000 UTCHere are some lyrics and poems I have been doing recently:
Finally, We Can Rest
I decide against throwing out her
cigarettes and place them next
to the condom packets on the desk
messages are intimate and can cut
like long, spectral knives that twist
into the minced meat of my abdomen
the angel corpse they’re scraping off the pavement is not a metaphor
my carpet is moist and discoloured
as is hers because she stopped
shaving it off and bleached it
the cis girls at the party are all talking
about you and are jealous of you and
smile thru teeth whitened by penis envy
all the food in the refrigerator rots and grows into a beautiful garden
as for the meat,
I can’t carve an Other out of the nauseating
sameness of the Flesh of the World
“she”, for reference, is another disassociated ego stuck
in a web spun by a St Andrew’s Cross
I thought your sailor moon tattoo was tasteful, even beautiful
(song: https://soundcloud.com/uboatheflesh/finally-we-can-rest-for-eva)
Woman As Animal
I have a womb and
I am with child
I look like my mother -
pale and curly-haired -
when she had me
I use scissors to tear her
out as I do not have a vagina
the pain is great and beautiful
the newborn girl has my mother’s
eyes and my father’s teeth
I kiss her on the forehead
before I resume screaming
Wombyn - Real and natural
and hidden behind trees
and bleeding out like
a wounded animal
Bouquets of Broken Needles
The spring flowers bloom and
their sweet scent sublates into
a fermenting-flesh stench as they are
unable to maintain their
purity in their sheer
ecstatic enjoyment
Flowers, as cunts, are cheaper
and are created in a way onlookers
describe as “natural”.
oddly enough, we love cutting them off
as an accepted signifier for love
A Fine Fruit, That Girl (Misspent Youth)
I kiss you I can taste the girlhood I never had
after being dead for 26 years
There’s a girl who never lived
And she got called a tranny at high school
And the boys want her but pretend they don’t
And write her love letters concealed as threats
And she stops coming to school
And maybe has a quiet overdose
And drops out into camming
And she has a friend like her and she’s broken too
But even when we were assaulted, again and again
it’s better to be broken together
Even death is tolerable if there is truth
And we’re truth
And I am so scared that all this possible pain
is still better than being a corpse in a closet
Waiting for right moment
Not for for me, for everybody else
And even more scared that I did know
But pretended I didn’t
A safe and slow rot
seems good enough
right up to the moment of birth
I wish I always were
me
because
hell is fine if I am woman there too
And hell is my truth
(Later used for 'Misspent Youth', in The Origin of My Depression)
