the original thought in my head was to be postdated by god until god learned he had a baby on the way. I had children until I could only have four. what I say to self-harm is pay attention. my daughter raises her hand on the off chance she buried something in her teacher’s body. (we have stopped talking
but I can squeeze her anorexia into a phone booth) poverty myth: I groom my sons with the beak of bird abandoned. real time I tell my tongue it’s ******* curtains for the mouth I’m getting. full circle my daughter surrounds those brothers of hers that mine clone.