It’s because I’m dehydrated, isn’t it?
That’s why my knuckles bruise fast dark blue
why I jump without looking
and love angry men.
It’s why my eyes blaze crimson
and I don’t cry,
why food scrapes my throat and
why I don’t have a job.
My body must crave water,
my soul must crave success and rightness -
because they must.
But I never wanted safety,
I want to be dizzy and sick and spinning,
I want to be bone shattered and love lost.
In the end it doesn’t matter to them
what I want -
“Drink more water, dear,
put some stone in that glass heart of yours.”