rugburn

by Marnie Cozzens

 

 

because it’s just,

i can’t ever turn my mind off

because it’s on a constant live stream projecting onto nothing

because everything is a fragment

because everything jumps from one thing to another

before finishing

because they call this a “mixed state”

because it starts with something like realizing

i’ve never had sex on carpet before

and wondering if i’d get rug burn and

why they call it a burn

because is it an actual burn and to what degree?

because who came up with carpet muncher

or munchies?

because i spend so much time sitting on the carpet, half naked,

munching on bacon and brussel sprouts and wondering

why kids don’t like their vegetables

because when you put caramelized fat on anything

it becomes edible

because when you say i love you

i can swallow any negative feeling i’ve ever felt

except for the fact that i still hate

because i can’t stop thinking about how beautiful rap songs can be

but when you say them one line at a time

they sound broken and that’s how i feel

like those times i get parking tickets

because i forgot what days street cleaning are

or when i fall asleep on my heating pad and

it sears patterned waves into my back

because this isn’t mania

because if drake can create beautiful one liners, why can’t i?

because “the square root of 69 is 8 something?”

because i spent most of my math classes figuring out why

word problems never made any sense to me

because numbers held no emotion and words made me feel

because before pre-algebra her brother slid his hand down my

hello kitty underwear and

because after geometry i learned what i was like to be bent

at an acute angle

by three boys

at a time

because everyone told me to keep quiet

because i promise this wasn’t mania

because when i told you my story you delicately helped me flip the pages

because in january you read Bluets

and quoted prose to me all winter

because blue is the warmest color

because we laid in bed like belugas

under white sheets

because i could tell you were mad when i stained your pillowcases

with cough drop colored drool and

because i know you didn’t know what anxiety actually looked like

until my sweat pooled on top of your comforter

because our shared comfort is

baby food and frozen juice boxes

because you don’t make fun of me for still feeling like a child

because this isn’t mania

because most of the time i’m still alone on my carpet

because i’m debating if i can give myself rug burn

because who knows

when i’ll be on carpet with you

because carpet isn’t clean

like numbers, like you are towards me,

because I want you to crash and burn into feeling something

uncontrollable towards me

because sometimes i like uncontrollable

because this isn’t mania

because nowadays survival rates in burn victims are higher than half

because even though i know those aren’t perfect odds,

i’ve always been a survivor

because you don’t have to say it,

but i know you love me better when i’m strong

because that one time when i got picked up in an ambulance, i saw your face

because that other time i got out of surgery

and i could feel you pushing me away, but

because that one time i shit my pants at the ferry building

you took a nap with me afterwards

because you took a photo of me naked,

a photo of me vulnerable

because i asked you if I could afterwards,

and you laughed in my face

because i like your laugh and

because i’ve never laughed so hard with anyone else

because you make the weird spill out in me and

because you tell me that it’s lovely

when i’m not sad

or mad

or in an uncontrollable state

because even though it’s not mania,

you don’t have time for anything else

because you still don’t have time

because you can’t do serious

because i gave myself a rug burn

because burns are too serious and

because you said you didn’t really like the concept of rugs

because now,

you.

because this is not mania

because

because i promise you,

this is not mania.