My Last Crush
Layer the stones profusely upon me;
Organs fail and yet I say to, “Bring more.”
Vicerit me sed ubi amor est?
Ego sum. Took the rings off my fingers
and there’s nothing left to say. But for jest,
I know it’s something humorous, lingers.
Mark my admiration: this or this or
this...(O ni bikkuri shakkuri to!)
The clotting on my bloody cornea
unwashed by your holy rain. I’m crazy!
All this would I be—I have no “Mea
culpa.”—if I’d marry you. I see, show
the bursting from uranium fissures,
I cut out my heart with safety scissors.
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