I think of all the air I’ve breathed
Happily ******* it in to the maximum, and then
That time he forced it down
Swallowed my “no” with his tongue
Both instances equally oxygenated

Why are the somber, sober selections always
unequivocally deeper in their loveliness
Scathing crisscross critique
Harsh words cannot dampen my fire
Hot and smoky I inhale

Steaming in this teepee from my fourth grade field trip
some re-creation of real civilization
absent was the metallic machinery
I long for stars brighter than
Plastic Hollywood

Ten and I convinced your mother I had died in a car crash
The first instance of my violent imagination
My conscience, sloth like, inverted blame
Like a sock turned inside out
I wished what I said was true

Years later I started the slow process of intentionally dying
Stupid girl I was. Unoriginal like the others
Only sewed up my holes. They asked me if I had a plan
Spitefully silent and still
I did not reply because I did not care to

The rolling hills of my temper
Emerged as I exited the binding comfort of my home
Young adulthood in all its glorious newness left me devoid
Of confidence in my ability to breathe on my own
Therapy and tablets forced me to care

Today I am high
I spew words
You don’t write poetry she says
Playing with words like string
It runs through my fingers, loose then taught, then a mess of tangle on the floor

As ******* as my tongue
Lapping up the air