Tumblr(Othello)

A couple weeks ago, I was drunk. I slipped and looked at her blog; I wrote the idea that night before I passed out, and wrote most of it during professional development the next day.

"Tumblr(Othello)"

I don't know
why I flip
to your blog
in these witching hours
I think
it's the look in your eyes
the way that they shine
like the light from a diamond
locked in a mineshaft
that light comes from within
it shines in my memory
it shines in the pictures of you
everywhere else
it shines, scarlet letters
burning in my mind
like Vegas lights, enthusiastic
all the implications of
"when I finally got home in the morning"
and the grins you might've rode, enthusiastic
I don't know why
I don't like the way it feels
like my insides are dry snakeskins
tangled, chafing, and sliding
while an icepick pounds my navel
to the rhythm of a broken heart
fire and ice
is not the theme for a party
it's my guts
when the future becomes the present
it arrived
it's here
and you left
I'd say
I don't like jealousy
I don't like pain
but I guess
that's what it was always about
two months of animal tango
two years of emotional krumping
we traded bitemarks for boredom
confidence, mistrust
and I swapped your scratches on my back
proudly worn
for the crown of Othello.
Desdemona didn't know
there is no proof of innocence
with guilt, you can at least
get the proverbial lipstick on the collar
the accidental phone call
the crusted latex behind the pillow
the brand-new bruise on the thigh
when you haven't seen 'em all week
or the choicest chocolate of them all,
certain proof -
spotting the two backed beast
heaving out, a, brilliant, red, A!
but there is no proof of fidelity
merely the absence of its opposite
there's no proof in arched backs
or loving caresses
that calms the one choking on
the sick green spoiled meat
of jealousy
I will tell you what jealousy is
it's hating the guy you used to be
before you gave in
and went back, uncertain
now the only certainty you have
is that you'll catch her again
if you look hard enough
her head, napping on your shoulder
must be exhausted from afternoon delight
her phone's free of anything suspicious
--she must've deleted them already
there's no proof of innocence
there's no proof someone's changed
you can't ever know if someone's reformed
you're left feeling
like a hunchbacked Dickensian war criminal
awkwardly moving atop a willing actor
adrift in the open sea
because every smile
hides something you don't know
maybe this crown
is why I'm here again
creeping your footsteps electronic
in this rather undignifed hari-kari
I throw myself at that shine
hoping to finally hit bottom
to hit zero, to hit reset
maybe if it hurts enough
I can die to start again
and free myself of Othello's crown