you keep looking at me like i’m god-*******-incarnate, babydoll
******* at the rind of an orange i bought you ages ago like it’ll still give you sweetness if you just ask it nicely
here’s the part where we die, me first, telling you something sweet so you won’t feel too bad. here’s where my hand meets yours, curling around your little knuckles like i can’t die right without it.
here’s where our hearts hurt, where they ache so bad it feels like they’re burning.
it’s okay. i don’t mind. i don’t mind, baby, so long as it’s you i’m lying cold next to.
my grave might be empty, and that’s okay too,
we might die out in the bitter ******* cold, heads upturned so we see the sky.
you always loved those constellations, could list them from memory by the time you were six. only right you die seeing them one last time,
is that morbid? i don’t think so, sweetheart. you’re just dramatic, always were, always looking for a fight from me.
i used to love you the way kids do, the way you should, the way you deserved.
i used to love you something special. it’s okay, honey. it’s okay.
i don’t mind, anymore.

i wonder if our skin cells are divided into more categories than we think
maybe some are a country and some are skyscrapers and wet city roads glistening with rain and sweat and rat ****
and in our skin's second layer are murals and graffiti tags and ice statues made up of chemical compounds and crystallizations waiting to be exposed

or maybe they're divided between cells you did and did not touch and if they are i hope the ones you ruined decide to secede and fall down the shower drain so i can finally be a new person
again.

I was made to be milk glass—
  Lately, I've been more of
a scattering of light,
  a technicolor oil spill,
effervescent kerosene,
  a phosphene
in a running eye,
  fluorescent aerosol
going cumulonimbus
  in a green sky;
a variegated skin rash
  caused by shining neon bile
all festering and iridescent;
  a tattered road map
on the wall of a food court,
  bearing incandescent roads
twisting like snakes
  eating their own tails;
a human being in the form of a
  kaleidoscopic feedback loop
passed back and forth
  between the mouth and the ear
and the mouth and the ear forevermore,
  burning the tongue, the finger tips
and teetering on the edge
  of glittering, glorious incendium—
After the smoke has cleared,
  I can go back
to sleeping on the shelf.

They told me I’m a rainbow but
I feel more like the technicolor gas leak
conjoining with the sludge beneath the shiny city streets

I'm not proud that
I wave that flag for everyone
but myself

The suspect said the thought bubbled up in her mind
and grew a silver, shimmery shell
It rolled down, pepto bismol freeway
snaking through her brain
It bounced down the neon back roads of her nervous system
She said it took its **** sweet time enjoying the view
It turned to mercury in her veins and slithered its way into her system
The suspect said she never saw it coming
Because “[my] sanity never said we was playing hide n’ seek”

my tongue and brain
must be best friends
they're both completely useless
spongy, yet unforgiving

you can approach me,
and i may approach you
but all of my words will take a swan dive
and commit group suicide
the second you try to speak to me

shine a flashlight in my eye sockets
if you'd like
but my skull is a ghost mall,
empty and vapid

my thoughts are racing but
not in a straight line
they're stuck on a treadmill
with no where to run

you can stare at me in my gaudy clothes
every loud opinion splattered on my skin
but although my sleeves are brimming with careful theories,
there is nothing inside my skull