if you
call yourself cruel,
just imagine
how horrible it would be
when i tear your
jaws out
with my
teeth

i don't even know my own father's birthdate,
and sometimes i still think about
boys who never touched me
with fingers
instead he caressed me
with dark,
star painted
tall trees.

that life is behind me
and if this one is a temporary one,
then i'm not sure which one i'm really living.
is that why reality seems so
fragile?