Megan Porter Poetry

Masking tape stretches taut over stiff cardboard,

tick as it rips off the roll—exciting beginning:

Box half open

Eyes peer into clawing emptiness,

it demands fulfillment—expects it, like an

Empty heart

Bubble wrap settles between each marbled plate,

it cushions the bottom—acknowledging fragility—

Paper envelopes chipped glasses, mugs.

Suffocating?

The box becomes heavy, so quickly,

Muscles stretch, fray,

Chest burning—

You’re killing me.

I can’t create a box to put these feelings in.

My life unravels at my feet

My apathy will not abate

I dream of death and know it’s sweet

You cared for me at our first meet

But yearning love you cannot sate

My life unravels at my feet

Your burning rage I cannot beat

A sadness twisted into hate

I dream of death and know it’s sweet

An enemy lives on every street

Lies and hurt flow through each gate

My live unravels at my feet

I daydream so my soul can eat

A thousand unseen lives collate

I dream of death and know it’s sweet

I have a life you’ll never greet

These circumstances sealed my fate

My life unravels at my feet

I dream of death and know it’s sweet

of feeling

like a stain on your shirt
like a pebble in your shoe
like a thorn in your flower arrangement
like a regret
like a faulty appliance
like the cause of all your problems
like a shadow in a quiet room
like I’ve forgotten my lines
like a starving, pitiable mongrel festering in the street
like the only people safe to love are fictional or far away

the lifeline lady said she could hear me bleed through the phoneline
pity my gored face never bothered you much

I want the Doctor
I want to know what it feels like to be loved
I want my sadness to make you sad

It’s all mine

You’ll adhere to my whims, pathetic swine

Statues underneath my eyelids; fire in my hands

It’s all going to plan

Martyr yourself on my blade

But first look upon the face where beauty does not fade

I walk upon the water of Lake Nemi, behold

a life dipped in gold

It’s all mine

This world, its people, its treasures lost to time

A more divine being this world has never seen

My life is obscene

I’m slowly stitching back my severed nerves, carefully, serrated edge dripping through my hands. have you ever been so [rage] you try to rip your shirt off at the collarbone? knees that topple to the ground, a controlled demolition. it [hurts].

You feel like imploding, collapsing inwards, [grief] is ripping chunks out of muscles again. why do you keep making me [sad] when it has been so long! it isn’t fair, when I try so hard, long, forever, to get it right. it isn’t right. stop [hurting] me.

I’m poking around for the [happy] in a rainy day, the [joy] in a dismissive gesture, the [love] in an empty house. I feel a [d]rag when you’re fl[ying].