tonight the streetlights whisper sweet baby,
then the street turns black.

the ghouls from yesterday dig their molars into the crown of my skull.
and they
bite
down.

i writhe with shame like cherry stems being twisted,
i always reassure myself i can be broken and pretty.
the sun is a latex circle,
it’s last one in my pocket.
i can only talk to boys when i want them to slit my neck.
or is that just what lust feels like?