Mick Tomlinson Poetry

I listen to birds beyond my window, and I feel small and unfinished, a songless feature no longer heard when my curtains move against wind. Nightly battles between me and every creature in my backyard. I hear them whisper bug obscenities while frolicking beneath moonlight. I think they mock me, or maybe they enjoy the nature of my insomnia a bit too much.

Necklace of truth worn around kinked neck- star-shaped secrets within its pearls that glow like galaxies against her skin. Her moment hasn't arrived, she waits serenely for a shatterproof future to notice her nakedness- to open doors for her the way a lover would if she had one. Tomorrow, she will celebrate three years sober, and draw rings around the sun with her finger, whistling the way a bird would while making its nest.

i'm in love with myself:     s p l i n t e r e d                       persona (tortoise shell) plug & play poetry         hackable human drizzle sweat. these are a few of my favorite things. sometimes my eyes deceive me via mirrored corneal stare. it is unnatural for man to implode via self-splintering poetry there are no road maps no tools no way to tell if he done gone crazy... there is only bicep and butthole, bellicose verse penned while pretending to be some-other-body.

1. i killed the person who fell in love with you, erased him replaced him with a star ride through space to a planet that doesn't exist. 2. a new creation. a resurrection of flesh- computer skin covering the imagination of the poet i once was- covering this hardcore thing that i've become. 3. i still feel the love. dreaming back, i grope the absence of never knowing our first kiss- of never wrapping your heart in pretty paper and ripping it open. 4. i know what happened between us- the recognition of familiar genius mixed with the aching nature of needing to feel alive... we both wanted to hold onto heart, the way poetry becomes the vine that grows the wine that got us drunk on love to begin with.

the weakling warbles in the spotlight- click like! click like! puffs up her tits like a smoke-fire fairytale. she wants you to want her. she needs you to need her. constant delight- social media centerfold spread eagle- tiresome chore of being a tiktok whore- sub/follow! sub/follow! internet mistress held beneath work desk- genitals rubbed while watching for boss.

i watch a m e r i c a n s pretend to care about politics-- pretend they could pass a civics test, ha i see them for what they are fanatical faggot militant marxist maggot ingredients wasted in racist bread and that's just the left... don't get me started on the faux fight wretched right cuck bitches who piss while sitting down i voted! okay and... go fuck your mother, ur precious president certainly did

i trusted you               as a friend, granted you entry into my guarded castle; all you had to do was keep your nose out               of things               and not stick it where it didn't belong, but no, too hard..             too much to ask. you enjoy feeling accepted by             everyone, being center of the rumor ring but i prefer a nap before death, and the quiet scream that follows.