B.O.M.B.S

by Seneca Basoalto 10 months ago in slam poetry

Candid Poetry About Real People

B.O.M.B.S

Goddamn, I’m a train wreck, car crash, pile up,Percocet, ripped jeans, wine stains, goodbyeI forget the last time I spoke to you withoutregret and trepidation digging holesthrough my gut, tongue, toes, knees, the wayI need you needy needy needy, I want our nosesto touch and speak to me in lyrics only I wouldknow – because you know me indelicatelylike coke and codeine exhumed from mytonsils every time I say your name withsecrecy or riddles that only you could solveliving in the poverty of your old age

I bite my black lip and loose tongueevery time you come around expectingneon palm trees to sprout from my uterusor my whole body of salt to dissolvelike sediment into the sheets where youleave cookie crumbs and make me suck yourthumb during reruns and shouting matches,

I have done everything to get away from thegravity of you,

but I have eaten your thighs andsmoked the psychedelic fire fuming from your hair,the way we love is stale as you shove yourself to fitinto every eye roll exploding becauseI’m just a bitch and back on my bullshit.

slam poetry
Seneca Basoalto
Seneca Basoalto
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Seneca Basoalto

I like bad words, old men, and heavy basslines

Background in the backstage music/movie scene

Iberian poet

Publications in England, Scotland, Australia, and USA through NAILED Magazine, Terror House Magazine, Utterance Journal, and many others

See all posts by Seneca Basoalto