i'm not angry anymore:
not fully.
the exhaustion has seeped through my bones,
and it's stuck in my marrow
and i'm sad and tired now.
this is just something to say
i love you
and i'm sorry
and i'm sorry i don't actually feel any of these things
because i can't
these statements are one of logic.

it is 9pm, so
i stride briskly to the bathroom
and brush my teeth.
the fibres are getting worn.
rinse, and gurgle, and rinse
again.
routine. i can live on
this repeat
one, two, three
strokes along my gum, then my teeth.
top row, bottom row, left side, right side,
inner top row, inner bottom row, inner left side, inner right side.
i rummage in the cabinets once i am done
at precisely five minutes past
for the blades and the medicinal alcohol.
dip, swab, cut.
routine. i can live on
this repeat
one, two, three
strokes on my person.
right forearm, left forearm, right thigh, left thigh.
the ballerina practices her pirouette
as i do with my suicide.
it is routine.
i can live.

i love you*,
she wrote
in the secret of her palm
to remind herself.

the rain falling in sheets down the windows
they form the perfect setting for a horror movie
not those Western kinds, mind-
give me Japanese ghouls peering into the bus' windows that I sit across from,
give me Malaysian banshees crawling on the roof of the bus.
Lord, give me a gruesome death, one that I have to fight for:
give me some spirit, some passion that will rise within me and consume me wholly, this need to live:
the fire that does not exist now.
The rain continues on pouring.

i have always had
an unparalleled fascination
for the human body.
human anatomy to me, it seems
draws me in
like a moth to a candle.
it mesmerizes me,
to see drawings of phalanges and metacarpal bones,
all covered
like a secret lover
by smooth, knitted skin.
romeo, where art thou?
tracing pictures of the aorta and veins and arteries, i hope-
the sensual twists and turns of a capillary should fill the page.
let me bask in deltoid and trapezius muscles,
make my way to the clavicle.
let the beauty of the fragility and the strength of bodies,
divine and heaven-sent,
engross me for the decades to come:
to admire and enchant and enthral;
to hold spellbound and captivate and always intrigue me.

I crush dead leaves under my feet.
The satisfying crackle-hiss reminds me
Of when your bones crunched into a million pieces,
Marrow collapsing under the disbelief that a pretty little thing like me could have denied you.
You have been panting after me like a dog in heat for a year. Do not think I wouldn't notice.
I will use the feminine wiles at my disposal, all of them ammunition against boys like you, with your doe eyes and quickly hidden smirks.
I hear you in the locker room. A mass of hooting, crowing creatures that shout out at the slightest dichotomy between what you think is normal and what is normal.
You think I don't see Paul, who comes home bruised every day because his heart is too big for one gender?
I walk past the locker room and recoil, because you reek of privilege and body odour. I hear you talk about the man, Laverne ***, who was on your television last night. Disgusting, you say, like your opinion should matter. I close my eyes tightly and hope your idiocy is not contagious.
Bang, bang, bang. That is the roar of gunfire as I smile sweetly at you with lips you deem to red, as you call me a ***** and ****. A million slurs wouldn't do you a single favour, darling.
You remind me of the time that you paid for my meal and I blow radioactive gas in your direction as I laugh in your face. The thud of bomb shells fall behind us. I sharpen my nails into claws and strike.
Once upon a time I would have thought you handsome and sweet and popular, qualities we are taught to fall in love with regardless of flaws. If you hadn't been handsome anyway the illustrious promise of being safely heterosexual was always reminded of. Now boys like you I leave behind in the dust for girls like me. We laugh at your antics as we dye our hair colours the Church would have disapproved of. We don't care, anyway, our kisses are the salvation we were never conditioned to believe in.