500 miles to wichita from here. that's a long way to walk
especially in this hot rain
500 miles means 500 long hours from any kind of love, which means i'll swallow up the whole field before i fill up anyway with sweet sorrow (i move slowly).
some lover who will swing from the trees with me
feed me rock candy and butter cookies, drowning the city fish in the lake
we go to church on sundays now, not just for christmas. my ******* are pink how he likes them and we go swimming whenever we want
not just on sundays
everything is green in kansas, warm and sweeter than molasses.
some lover who is going to sing this to me will meet me in the pasture where we slaughter the pigs and the chickens
making melodies from the police sirens
we can't stand cold water, now
and we can't see in the rain
when we're here in wichita
no longer so far away.

i'll be almost an adult
yet i don't feel mature
as the pain goes down my throat
and collects itself into a ball
of tears.

stuck.

i feel stuck.
i feel sorry.
(i wish i could say i feel nothing.)

i feel like i'm going backwards, asking myself
if i should be or not be at all.

i don't know what i'll say
on my birthday

when they ask me what i wished for
on the candle of the cupcakes

that aren't even the ones i asked for.

chewing half moons and cherry pie
don't tell me what you think because i don't care!
algebra one, two, three, algebra counting on my fingers
chewing half moons and cherry pie
too much for me to give up
too much for me to give up
give up my body and my soul. too much for me to lose
it's windy here, chewing half moons and
best
cherry pie
not worried about convention, comprehension, convention,
swallow lemonade
swallow me up
swallow half moons and cherry pie

green, the water is blue
and green and cold
(the moon into blood)
freezes
me
(the sun shall be turned to darkness)
tangles
inward lethargy that will not melt again
but i do not know

the sun shall be turned to darkness
and the moon into blood
before that great and terrible day of the lord

catharsis is not melting or boiling or freezing but it is
unfolding.
an inward lethargy that cannot melt or boil or freeze
catharsis is not melting or boiling or freezing but it is
(before that great and terrible day of the lord)

remember
you seriously hate me
you have it down
to vanity
dissolve me
slowly
hold me
so gently
your dream
is so lovely
not lovely,

but love me.