Am I supposed to feel like sunrise,
Or smell of freshly cut grass?
Am I supposed smile with my teeth
like white doves in unlocked cages?
Is this supposed to give me hope
Like a baby’s first breath?
And emptying the vacuum?

All I feel is ugly and desperate  
Like a mushroom
sprouting from cow ****
Or the fitted sheet
I never put on my bed

I fear if I go back to the beginning

I won’t ever be  
Homemade Apple crumble
Lipstick stained skin
Or my favourite Jane Austen book
Not ever again

Fruitless, malnourished
I rot within myself
I give you every seed, every petal
I wish I had known
You’d grow bored of gardening
You drown
I dry up
Until we both cry over soiled roots
Desperate hands scraping,
Squeezing fallen leaves
Until they’re limp with indifference

I grow out my fingernails,
Into featureless feminine talons
In a vain prolonged pursuit of
Tearing, shredding, divorcing
Their mundane endeavour for life
Mocking me with their empty perseverance

I terminate their audacity with entrapment
Between tarnished tile teeth
Every ribbon departed
Easing my plump pulsing contempt

Oh, sweet relief,
I disfigure their arrogant survival
Ragged pieces of something neither flesh or bone
Catching upon smooth skin and loose threads
Just as I am.

I fear I am an oyster

stuck to the underside of a rock's bloated belly
festering or ripening, I'm scarce to know

Alien is the dirt between my fingernails
fathomless to me is the air upon my plastic skin
this water upon my lips feels like such synthetic whispers
what ecstasy I find in empty flavoured gin

I saw a predator in the bathroom mirror
or perhaps it was just confident prey

In morning I awaken, gasping for light

my birth, a first breath in fire

ripped from my sanctuary of void sight

identical synthetic houses made to admire

filled with stain of suffering and spite

stuffed to the brim with the wet words of liars

thick is my liquid consciousness which fades into the night