On knowing

why should you have it

a string of lovers here, there

why you, why not me?

It makes me angry, so angry – I want to bite into pomegranates – something red, wet, that bleeds when I- sink my teeth into it – why should I have -cornered myself, walled myself off – like a rabid dog – with a conscience – trying only to -chew on scraps when I am hungry, when I am fiending – why should you, with your ‘poetry’, you with your whorish legs and mouth, you with your indifference to the world changing- around you- why should you have these things that I do not?

ah, “let the lips smile bitterly, and a tremor touch the heart”

again.