survival of the unfittest

survival of the unfittest

five days

the time since i have

taken your hoodie off

seen your smiling face within holding distance, 

felt your within face distance, holding me

felt anything

(a lie—

i feel the phantom of every touch every feeling every night)

“it’s just a week, love”

you say and i

do not die 

have already perished before

you leave

“the moon can survive a week without the sun”

but it will not shine, will it

“the earth can survive a week without moonlight”

but it’ll need a lot of extra artificial fucking help, won’t it

“profanity poisons   poems

it is the attempt of a small-minded man to express large ideas”

then,

body already pushed to plateau

i will poison my pet raccoon with platitudes in silence