xv.
###
how do i survive
with metal hangs in my jaw
and plastic melts in my eyes,
both are lacking
what a body is supposed to have:
balance,
balance,
balance?
and with balance they never mean
everything goes the same way
in the same day,
the same pace,
the same face,
the same chemical formula to and fro
all over the place from tip to toe.
balance is never anything they mean.
it is never the thing it is supposed to mean.
it is not the seventh cranial nerve,
nor the sick tongue nor the dotted gum.
not a moon instead of a head,
nor the medicines,
nor the warm water,
nor the faces they make to know how it feels like,
(spoiler: they still don't know, they can't ever possibly
with heart as hard, no desire to learn,
no passionate dreams mentioning equity,
not once does it cry about what intersects with the music
they play so skillfully)
###
it is not the misplaced lips,
not the nonfunctioning left side,
not the one smaller eye nor the other bigger eye.
you cannot tell what i was born with.
you keep guessing wrong
that i was born with angry hands
desperately trying to hide the void where
every sincere smile is overthrown
and each tooth has their own problem for me to solve.
all the days you are a persona and i am the property:
i have been busy preserving what's inside,
carefully guiding my cells in place,
while you cheerfully break it
little
by
little
because of what appears from the outside:
even from the inside i can tell
i am ****** up so very horribly,
and with that alone, every adolescent can
pull a great show
of thousand jokes.