it did not start like this,
you know?
it did not start with blood
dripping from my forehead —
with my hands
covered in it too
it did not start with me staining my lips
with the red wine of your sins
believing it‘ll make me holy

because i am not a bad person per se
i mean, i guess, cause that‘s what my
mother says
and while
i don‘t know whom to trust
at least let me lust;
just this once —
it did not start like this.

because battered and bruised i can tell you that
it started with james

you see, james says:
every good friendship starts and ends in beating each other up
sundays for us
and james says: every great friendship withstands an affair — any kind
which is why we will go blind together.
and because james says: leaden tongues glitter silver too
i have to think about all the times he was right in the wrong way.
about how my fingernails are collecting the soil of the places
in which we died
over and over and over again,
the circle of life does not stop
for me or for you and certainly not
for the letter j.

it did not start like this,
you know?