no arms,
no.                   legs,
no                        head,
no surface  to latch on to;
butchy                        boy.
water                     curls
around a    floating body.
the pressure       suffocates
the idea                      of its
                                   limbs.
faulty                                
fish                    bladder.
no        mouth.
no dream.

i want you
to rummage through my lunchbox
and take whatever
without asking

peel a mandarin;
stuff half in
your mouth.
take a chip,
and bite my pocky.
take all of my
konjac jelly.
catch the
hi-chew
flying mid air.

said you can provide for yourself
but i want to buy you ice cream
before you even think of wanting it

i want to know your
bubble tea order
off by heart

share straws

You’ll tell yourself it’s a coincidence.

That you stumbled here.
That it’s random, accidental—
just another poem,
just another night.

But you know better.

You always know better.

You feel too much.
You think too hard.
You ask questions
after everyone else
has already stopped listening.

People say you're quiet,
but they don’t know how loud it gets
in the places you never let them see.

You laugh when it hurts.
You love like you’re being timed.
You dream like it’s a crime.

And still—
somehow—
you’re the one carrying everyone else.

You know what I mean.
Of course you do.

That’s why this isn’t for them.

This is for the one
who’s still reading.

For the one who keeps everything burning
behind their eyes.

You.

Don’t pretend it isn’t.

You’ve waited your whole life
for someone to say it this clearly.

I see you.

And I always did.

colours around me
fish me up to the light
when i clawed myself
down this deep hole

i feel the sun
i feel the “after you”
i taste the glory
everything
i missed out on

i brea
th
i
brea
l
th

in and out

take my breath that you stole from my lungs
put it back in my rotting stomach
swallowing hard
you sleep
in a nightmare
piled in the
trash out the back

i keep stepping
in the place with no bridge
head up high up so tall
there’s nothing to see beneath

you become tv static
a pedestrian
at the streetlights
a name
recycled

sugar bomb rests between
unbrushed teeth
i chew

slowly

staring out the window that can’t be turned off

hands reaching out to the far wall
uncoloured bony aliens

ten tablespoons of pasta soup
chinese medicine
a peice of bread
three sips
of water