Inverted Hair Metal Love Ballad

The timestamps on word documents

And last played dates on songs

Remind me of

The evening I brought

You takeout

And your cat immediately

Entered the empty

Box when we took out

The food.

The quick dinner we 

Ate before you

Drove back to


Huddling together

In the hotel kitchen

And making a pot of tea

After we fucked.

Your cats sat on your

Counter and starred at us.

There was absolute

Silence in the trailer


February turning

To March.

Fucking in the back

Of a bookshop,

Getting lost and finding

My way home

By smelling the 

Illinois river

From my drivers side


It’s a feeling,

Knowing that 

I will not 

Know the 

Minutiae of your


No time and place information


The evenings you will all

Get engaged,

Your first full time medical

Practice will remain

Unknown to me. 

Everyone always leaves the

Hotel room earlier than they


I tried to stay awake,

You watched cartoons

On the old console


That morning I walked across both first

And second floors

Looking for the front


There were no other

Cars on I-74 

That morning. 

I always listen to top 

40 country after

Getting laid. 

I knew I would never see

You again.  

Revolt of the Nine Angles

It seems like I’ve started so many 

Poems by reminding my readers

That I am not a Freudian. 

I guess there is

A reason we don’t

Have public 

Discussions on the

Ethics of violence.

Cancer is not the demonic possession

Of medical science.

It’s so rare that we become

Lyrical about the way

Gravity weighs 

Down on our hearts. 

Humans are always

Trying to be 

What we aren’t. 

Lovers become parents,

Churches become


As if syntax could make me 

Anything other

Than a victim. 

As if there is anything shameful

In not being a Darwinian 

Success story. 

The wind and rain

Are fluent mathematical


The mathematics

Of analingus,

Antiseptics and 

Non linear 

Equations equally


I have spent the last three

Weeks terrified of 


They have infested my

House and

I already struggle

With high blood pressure and


As said in recent popular

Science fiction 


Before long rocket

Science will become

A working class


Thursday Simpson lives between Peoria, Illinois and Iowa City, Iowa. She is a writer, composer and cook. Her work has recently been anthologized in Nasty Volume 2Hexing the Patriarchy and Satan Speaks!: Contemporary Satanic Voices. She also works as a producer and audio engineer. Her twitter is @JeanBava and her full publication history can be found at

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