not quite over-the-counter but it works just the same, youre in way over your head, youre spitting and drooling and hacking out your lungs and you smile up at me in between the ******* and it makes me want to tell your mom not to worry,
oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,
                    where did all this ******* saliva come from, for christs
                    sake, im ******* drowning in it. i think i want to be
                    violent now, i think its my time, i think ive been waiting
                    long enough for it. in my mind i still have my training
                    wheels on, you terrify me
you still wear that necklace, i saw it when you pulled up your shirt the other day in my room, on my bed, lately looking you in the eyes has been so ******* hard but i manage, i manage when i can, i pull you to my chest when youre on top of me because i miss the way your hugs feel,
oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,
                     i still love you, dont you know that? lately ive been
                     crying and puking at nothing, these are the symptoms
                     i guess. i want you to be rough but its too soon for you
                     to hurt me; my parents arent home, do you wanna
                     come over

im spiraling. im spiraling. im spiraling. i didnt think i had the fight in me to light a fire this bright, oh god i am relishing in hating so hard.
     i dont breathe easy anymore. every bit of breath i catch is milky,
     heavy like fog, hovering between the states of matter. i want to
     destroy this vessel.
i bask in this violence. i hate every inch of myself down to my guts and this is all my own fault. i love the summer but ill miss that winter glow.
     i want to destroy myself. i want to grind myself up into powder. i
     want to force all this loathing into my throat and choke on it.

how am i supposed to write about being delicate when i am a pressurized ball of rage, coiled tightly like a snake reeling to strike, how am i expected to
write about the soft parts of myself when all i feel is this ugliness within me, swirling like a swarm of flies, dark,
dark like peeling away the layers of my skin,
imagine what i could do to myself uninterrupted.
imagine what i could do to myself uninterrupted.

how am i expected to love you when im overwhelmed with this hatred,
this loathing, ripe and so so so so close to erupting,
like a brain swell, and
how can i
explain this violence inside of me, so gory, so beautiful,
imagine what i could do to myself with this rage.
imagine what i could do to myself with this rage.

i am not beautiful. i am filmy eyes and dirt crusted nails and i want you to know that i am not beautiful. i did not appear here in a swath of light, all oozing with virginity, i appeared here with my mother kicking and screaming. my life has been years of lying in wait like a dog. i cant afford to be patient anymore.

he was vile, laying there all pitiful-like with his arms spread. "what happened to you?" i asked. he never responded, just spasmed and bled from his mouth. after everything i sat beside him.

the dawn was breaking then, and the grass was cold and slick with dew and ****** fluids--this was before northwest indiana set her cattails on fire. he looked up at me, not pleadingly. his gaze was full of understanding. his hair was knotted and covered in silt.

"youre going to die." i said. "youre going to die if you lay here like that." i always had criticisms. he told me so.

he rose with all the power he had left in him and ****** violently, separating the skin on his back from his muscles. for a moment i forgot to be afraid of him. with one last twist and twitch his bones

sliced through his pallid skin like butter and he extended his wings.

and suddenly i understood.

i left him laying there, all pitiful-like with his wings spread, on the pure homegrown indiana land.

he died, just like i said he would, because no matter what i always have to be right, dont i? he told me so.

and so; here it is. i fuss like a ******* her wedding day, bustling, bursting with trepidation. i can see right through your skin and you look nothing like the pictures; rotten, rancid, revolting.
     i look in the mirror.
     im just like my father.
and so; here it is. i scrape the black out from under my eyes with my fingernail and flick it onto the floor. retribution! i say, i leave pieces of me everywhere! youll never forget this face!
     that face? the one you loathed so deeply?
and so; here it is. i find myself missing the warmer months again, pressing dandelions into the dirt, too high to speak. the air was easier to breathe in back then; less pressure, less dust.
     i was soft as butter and
     now i will be as hard as a stone.

id ask you if you knew how tragic you looked but you just turned away. i cant stand being rabid. my blood is toxic, volatile. no one can ever hurt me.

i stand my ground, pathetic and puffy-faced. i dont want to be fragile, i want to have control. i am disposable.

i dont know how to explain this to my mother. hate has hands like a vice.

i. they crack under the pressure, complaining of headaches and the like. i'm on the countertop, thawing like freezer-burned meat. you approach like youre ready to pounce; hesitant. i assure you that i wont bite, not with my words but with my blood and the pattern of my muscles. how can you not trust someone so exposed?

ii. i trace your veins with fragile fingers, stopping where they split and kissing the skin delta. i pay extra attention to your pericardial cavity and breathe in the scent. i imagine myself nestled in your organs, flush against your trembling heart and your ribcage.

i feel your hands.
youre slick up to your wrists with discharge,
disgusting. they touch my waist, i recoil.
i feel my insides wither up and retract like
a plant without water, a mercy; like
running away from whats already in you.

you have beady eyes and your tongue is a knife, and
i love you all the same.
your silence is endearing yet i push to break it,
spitting and swallowing seawater; fighting the current,
screaming,
"why cant i get through to you?"
you dont know and you never will.
youre wearing my jacket.