Looking at the map,
my eyes find their way to the unnamed borders,
the many lines that divide the land
and the sea,
the civilised,
and the savage.
I dimly wonder
if those lines are truly the ends of the earth,
or are they beginnings of a new world?

she has bolts
lining her mouth
so she can't complain
about the taste
of the metal on her tongue,
her hips,
her waist⁠—
her eyes are glossed over
brown and blank
mom says they're beautiful
but they're faker than fake
but still
she'll sit up straight
while her gears
will shift around
they'll pierce the inside of her head
like all the bullets in her brain
maybe that's why she's so sick
maybe that's why she's so sick

;