Post -

I look to the past and sense order
To the past that was your present barren chaos
and eat nuts upon a burning burning Waste Land
on a bar stool in Sacramento
and watch a game of spectators
eating nuts upon some bleachers
My forgotten abortions don't dissuade me, Eliot,

I still live a life of frivolity
and no longer have ability
My allusions from game shows, reality tv
What with the Bible, Virgil, and Iliad all dead
we've found no need for mediator Tiresias
as the sex now has no mind
and we came to realize all men were women, the whole time

With advanced funds from the society you so condemned,
Haliburton did some scouring
and turned your Waste Land into a Theme Park



Separate, Complete

You’re the only thing outside of me
Everything else blends into my darkness

You are the outside

While the world feeds my solitude

You’re the only thing that stands beside me
and outside of me
Suddenly, I’m anchored

with that darkness, too





Weezer wrote that they were Tired of Sex
I’m tired of sex as a fetish
Standing in for something else
a sick metaphor
for your discontent and anxieties
I’m tired of my body standing in for your loss,
Paint stretched across canvas
Pencil drawn across paper
An unintended form
embodies your sorrow

Copyright © a contemplation (Emily Jones) 2013. All rights reserved.