Would you like me to get a nose job too?
Should I change my hairstyle
to contour the slight ***** of my cheekbones.

I feel squished, pressured,
I've been trying to squeeze out what's boiled and festered
these uncomfortable itchings
of my pent up feelings
are expanding into a hot air balloon
not the kind to make a loved one swoon
this craft protects my perpetual doom

It's comfortable up there
with every ounce of suppressed thoughts
jammed inside my head
I don't have to talk to anyone.
I don't have to listen to anyone.
I don't have to care about anyone.

I can eat until I puke
I can drink until I puke
I can cry until I puke
I can puke until I have nothing left inside me
Empty, i'm left on the ground writhing

I trapped myself in that hot air balloon for way too long
re-wrapped, jet-packed, flew down to the throng
of people. just like me. breaking and aching just like me
found solace in fresh soil and beautiful poetry

I tried to stable myself like the earth
I tried to staple down my thoughts and feelings into poetry
and my everything orgasmically erupted
I galloped without stirrups through hazy fields
doing cartwheels, digesting meals
When I am asked to revise a poem
I am clench-jaws, buckled knees
stiffening literal un-moving trees

How can I perfect a direction of words
that grow wild with cathartic freedom?
How can I perfect my writing
when writing about my flaws makes me a better person?