*giggles*

A new poem by Erika Wurth

December 6, 2017  By Erika Wurth
1


*giggles*

 

I begin this with *giggles* because I have none but I’ve got some slick, sad, black words about all the Native American issues which I care deeply about *giggles* but I’m kidding about taking an axe to her head *kidding* it’s going to be OK don’t worry I’ll tweet about it later.
Actually my anger is closer to the surface it’s 140 characters long and my snark is very authentic as am I
Funny because I eat all of you up. I just need these words in my language to prove how innocent I am though I’m the least, tweet all you want. Just let me touch all of you – my hands will burn all the way down into your flesh and then I will be born born born, re-born away from all of this pain.
LOL LOL *giggles* what is flesh? What is burn? Is it like the time in Jr High standing in the glossy white hallways when I told everyone that I was Indian and all they had was *giggles* but no actually that wasn’t really funny was it now was it now was it?
I don’t know my thoughts are disorganized but they are righteous they are right right right RIGHT? THEY ARE and they start on social media (very authentic) and they end up on social media (very authentic) and I was hurt once and what that means is I speak for all of you, I am all of you, all of you SHUT UP
Ha. And by that I mean watch out. I mean look at what happened to me look at these arms shhhh shhh I’m kidding. I’m crying. I’m burning you up while you sleep.
I’ve got something to say about that though there’s a word limit to my snark there has to be because first of all I can only snark for so long without killing all of you *joking* and secondly they only let me go on for so long because it’s hard to watch me killing myself in front of so many Indians *LOLlolLOL*.
I won’t kill anyone but I’m funny too you know me too, ME TOO, why don’t you all get a latte about it what’s a latte I’m too authentic to know but let’s all have a pissing test that’s made of purity and lies and then I’ll WIN
I’ll eat you up, come here, sit on my lap, I’ll write something in my language and I’ll cry until you let me start with your arm and then I’ll move up. And right for a moment, before I disappear, I will be full, full of you, who are full of shit.
Shit? Shit? I only use that word when I mean it. When I am it. When I am full of it, which is never but what I’ll do is email everyone you know and quietly kill you all with the knife I’ve pulled from my own arm *snort*.
I’ve tried to tell you not to kill everyone because that’s my job which I’m so sexy at not that I care I cut my hair but what I’m saying is that I’ve already written about that and everyone loved it which proves how radical I am and how if I wanted to, I’d kill all of you so that I could be the only Indian in the world, that’s the goal.
The goal is to die. Funny is a means to an end, it shows you the desperation in the way I smell, which is of rotting meat, mine. All of you are only living so I can fuck you, and when I do, I will cry about it and find something more innocent than myself to eat because it sickens me. I have to burn it out, the way it was once burned out of me. All of you. Sit. Wait for me. I’m coming, I’m coming, shhhhh.




Erika Wurth
Erika Wurth

Erika T. Wurth’s published works include a novel, Crazy Horse’s Girlfriend, two collections of poetry, Indian Trains and One Thousand Horses Out to Sea and a collection of short stories, Buckskin Cocaine. A writer of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry, she teaches creative writing at Western Illinois University and has been a guest writer at the Institute of American Indian Arts. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in numerous journals including Boulevard, Drunken Boat, The Writer’s Chronicle, Waxwing and South Dakota Review. She is represented by Peter Steinberg. She is Apache/Chickasaw/Cherokee and was raised outside of Denver.








  • Josh, A Real Adult

    This poem is good as hell



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