A tribute

thank you for telling me everything was my fault
'cause that fault-line crack in my confidence
has become one of my favorites.
a favorite fissure filled with gold
like Japanese pots and Van Gogh paintings of sunflowers

and thank you for taking what I gave ungratefully,
your great greed rive guidance to my dreams.
dreams overwhelmed with your absence,
with furious flames of affection, with toothy grins
and thank you's, so many thank you's

speaking of which, thank your for wresting from
my trembling fingers what I was unwilling to give.
your teeth drawing colorful scarves from between my teeth
of stifled cries, caressing fingers fitful nights, and gagging humiliation

and in case I forget, thank you for pretending you escaped unscathed
from between my claws and from between my legs.
my thick, muscular tentacles relinquishing you readily
into your ravenous hunt for fresh meat to bury
your loneliness in

case you forget, thank you for not being unscathed.
for being your own prophecy told and retold
om miserable, unwilling whispers of how
none of us sirens were notches in anything but your bones
and when your closet vomits out your skeleton
you can't hide from us anymore

At least I learned to acknowledge my broken femurs
and slicing, broken-glass-edge defense mechanisms.
I learned it from wanting to antithesis myself of you.
so thank you for being yourself, for being mean,
for being blind, for being insecure and shattered

Here's to you. may this tribute be like mouthwash,
cleansing and burning and forcing you to
shut the fuck up
even if it's only for 45 seconds or so