i Let It Consume me Like i Am Some Rice Porridge, So Easy, So Easy i Slip Into The Throat And i Warm Its Belly, Only To Have All my Nutritions Absorbed, Gone Forever And i Can't Ever Be With Them Anymore And Now i Feel So Cold And Groggy Or Maybe Just Not Wanted As Much As How i've Always Known. One Day i Am In The Toilet But Not For So Long Because After It Finishes i'll Be Flushed Into Nothingness Not Even my **Smell Remains And Toilet Is Now Citrus-y Like Before Again.

Home is far away in the future that is for me like the heart-throbbing, very-first gamble and between the most extreme and the exact opposite side. Either way I find it intriguing but at the same time I want to stay at the same time. I, I want to... stay.

I'm not saying where I struggle now is the most beautiful and pleasurable and that's why I don't want to move, although I also am not saying that it is so painfully ugly it may fit me rather perfectly. Uh-oh, none of it matters, actually.

I just shall never leave. I mean, I'm dead from now on. I am preserved nicely in a body that will grow when I swell, that will shrink when it is running out of me. And there will come a time when skin kisses bones, my, my, lovely are my bones!
Oh!


I'm fine like this. I think I'm fine like this.

God- aren't you
tired
pretending to be something you
are not?* she whispers in a quiet
voice, popping the air, gently, like
soap bubbles. "You churn
my stomach
everytime I try to talk."
She thinks it's quite unfair
because she feels the same way.
You are trying
to change the subject
into something it wasn't.
"No, I
am not. Everything
has been the same from
the very first beginning."
Now, now, now look at you.
Look at what you've been. Look at you!
she cries, maybe
a little too loud for someone who's been so
close
to anything airtight.
The other person sighs.
(If sighs have color, this one'd be pale gray,
with no transparency in it.)
"I have been like this
all this time
from the very
first, the very
first
beginning."
Of course she has no idea
when the hell was that.
There's no concept of such
in her head, in her life,
if that's what you say to address a being.
I'm tired.
"You said it." I did.
She did?! Her eyes widen. Her face reddens.
The other person can hear her heartbeats.
I am not! I am not! I'm! I'm! I'm not!
"Pretending to be something you are not?"
That's not what she was saying.
That's not what I was saying-
Yeah, I mean, no. Not like that.
"You haven't changed."
She did. You just don't know.
"Nope. Not even a bit."
She blushes.
You knew.
The other person.
The other person smiles,
"I did." The other
person
did.

Sadness is like the stars, and happiness the skies. But atop you just dead flowers and dried tears, keeping you warm are maggots and shrouds.
No one has any idea, your heart beats in perfect harmony.
Let it be, you let it be.
That's the closest to the air you can give, although it can only grow thinner. Dear oxygen has left you for good. Your rotten lungs can only grow more sour. Your throat severely wounded and your own mouth tastes like vinegar.
That detailed twist in your abdomen. Right. Your body is soundproof.
You can't even remember the ****** scene.

I remember somewhere
in the depth of your lake-like eyes:
fresh ropes, high places, warm walls.

Everything I've tried to recall
from the comfy, tender-looking voice
still floating like clouds below the scorching sun.

I imagine so: you
are more than a metaphor of poetry,
more than a life in your body, you

are a son lost in your own prophecy.
I now know how a mother must feel,
how a mother must feel about the fruit of the womb.

These blue-green petals of your existence
softly wrapping my fingers and sloppy neck;
it is almost as if my skin is precious.

xiv.

The heat is
heavy and a
gold,
though different from wha
t
I learned in high sch
ool.

I stopped sleeping
with the lights
on. I stopped wa
king up to a smooth,
even sleepiness. I
stopped admiring sunrises.

In high school
there were girls and only girls.
An all girls school
wasn't that much
extraordinary. A
lot of
people don't un
de
rstand, bo
ys were not practical un
til
you want u
s pregnant.

I wish we started being extinct,
right here and
now. I wish we
started earlier. I
wish
we
'd start at all.

Back then
I drew a lot.
I wrote some
things I can't
write anymore, nev
er ever
    ever
   ever
  ever
ever
ever

I sleep at night just like everybody else,
only rougher, harsher, harder
than average. Nothing special
about thinking every night is the last
just so you can fall asleep.
No matter what, morning always comes
the same
for all people.

I meet and talk to people just like
everybody else. Only that I
stumble at my heart, bleed all the time inside.
I keep crying in all the wrong ways,
keep abusing my voice,
can't tell anymore what's incorrect.
So nothing to fix, nothing to be curious about,

there's no question in the first place, only
if
waving is
the
way to
say
goodbye,
would you
consider
me
as the
ocean?