drain

I noticed how your lips moved as the lies slid out.

I noticed them get caught on the tip of your tongue,

Toying with the thought just long enough to fill a moment.

They dribbled out like maple syrup,

Ran down your chin, slowing just as it passed your jaw…

You wiped your lip,

It remains unclean.

My chest winced at every syllable,

My ears ring and they bleed down the sides of my neck,

My teeth tighten against their gums.

I pried for truth,

Clawing at bits and pieces,

Desperate for something sweet to hold onto.

Sticky, sure, but not sweet.

Everything that grows on your grapevine is sour.

Not like muscadine or warheads, no.

A taste so chemical, so hard to describe.

It is battery acid.

It leaks and pools underneath the floorboards where you sleep.

Years of inactivity,

Encrusted along your edges.

She could have powered a village.

Ambient warmth and nightlights.

Spun records and fried eggs.

Instead she lies dormant,

not sure of her terminals.

Corrosion makes it harder to know what is conductive,

Despite the wattage.

Even with the thick rubber coating,

Electrocution is all she knows.

Plenty of folks have given you a jump from time to time,

Some luckier than others.

Triple A’s and 9volts simply don’t electrify you, do they?

No, you crave something with higher amps.

Quasars lend you their light.

Still, you wonder if something can burn brighter.

I wonder how dark it might be,

If I hadn’t found my own.

It could be that I still feel the sting of being zapped.

It felt like lightning,

Through my hands,

Shot through the top of my skull.

Silvadene be damned,

Burns turned into textured scars.

I wear them like ribbons in my hair,

Adorning myself temporarily,

Tucking them back into my vanity when I’m through.

I keep them, yes,

For they say what sticky can’t.

Reminders of a limited resource.

A time when my own wires were very crossed…

Many moons,

Other planets as well,

Came and went.

All reflecting differnt hues,

They danced with the stars.

My new skin grew over my existing musculature so gracefully.

My ribbons tangled themselves in drawers forgotten.

Finally I realized,

Light is my favorite color!

And I know just how to create it.

So for now and forevermore,

I won’t test you to see if you work.

No amount of tinkering will help now.

I left you in the junk pile in the kitchen.

There you can get some light from the window,

The one above the sink.

Hopefully you find something to fuel yourself,

Without having to drain.

You made a choice,

many choices.

Never once choosing to complete the circuit.

So is it my shame to carry through this desert?

Is it my mistake to see the good?

Is it your demons that I constantly apologize for?

All questions you could never answer.

Not without flooding my eardrums or plucking the exposed bone from my face, anyway.

And Baby! I noticed!

Every dream you have visited,

every vicarious stare.