i can’t even keep a cactus alive i forget to feed the fish my sims, playing god, kept in bowls floating squarely upside down i bet if i kept the cold virus inside a petri dish in my ***** room, it would die as well as any pet, as sticks and stones collected as a child, coloured in snapped or shattered, inevitably lost and yet and yet
in nine months’ time i will be one hundred percent loaded a poorly dressed specimen of adult human life imaginal stage, caged bug eyed girl growing moths, cultivating mould far too scared to be so old still packed in with cotton wool all bundled up inside myself walking on eggshells wings wrapped around my head a feather bed, an endless humming to block out every bump in the night
my body is a cephalopod, sucker attaching to every rock or hard place, petrified of the space between myself and love and caring needing a taste of everything that looks safe to ingest my restless limbs can neither hold you nor let you go
whereas my cactus heart tears skin and fingers far apart the second we huddle in too close, pins and needles a pillowful of hurt, a careful collection, dessicated exhibit iron maiden cold and unbeholden, longing to be held
i am half empty, i need water, so much that i could die.
everything i touch dies *touches neo nazis and misogynists*