Does 27 years all come in one second, all the blankness confiding itself into one moment. 27 years and counting. All broken brain a set of scattered parts glued together. I take off my skin and there’s no blood beneath. They take a sideways glance and their eyes go right by me. 27 years and counting and I’ve been evicted from my own body. My one second is seeing the sprawl of the day and the years before them which go all the way to that day to tell me I’m 27 years old and counting. The seconds have crawled in through my stomach and up my spine eating out what made me human and spat themselves out through my mouth. 27 and no longer human, I’m a spider watching the world, give me the word and I’ll jump on you. Does 27 mean anything or is it just the number before 28 and the one after 26. The sideways glance backed out on me over a childhood, over adolescence, over adulthood.
A human tide comes annually over me like a brutal love, maybe I’d rather have a slap, a kiss or a caress run away with me. This adulthood is a game I have sleepwalked through, come and meet me where the rain isn’t raining I can hear my stomach screaming, I cut out my stomach but a anew one grew in its place and said the same things. It was singing all of today and yesterday. Like a scarecrow moving in the wind 27 and fucking lonely. The powerless need a place to go, Where the signposts go to hell. It must be better than this, the demons moved out ages ago, even they couldn’t bear it anymore, lips like honey keep trickling into my memories but so does the blood and the mouths that spit seconds of glass, life here is a full of a stomach of hate. The hate cut out a smile where my heart was and now I’m grinning.
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