Because my fingers are too
alien, just like how toenails on tulips
facing the clear, bright blue sky.

It is too easy to smile.

Because my fingers are now
a stranger's, just like the dead cells from my cheeks
I left on the road.

I only need more, more, more lamps and
clocks. Tick, tick. Tick.
I want to tick too.
Like a bomb.

Sometimes hair grows like sunflowers
just like how the brain
becomes soil.
You can find a worm or two,
thank them they make it fertile.

I am sleeping with my eyes open,
I'll let them dry. Let them dry
and make them your bookmark.

Just leave me
at your favorite part
so you can have a reason
to not come back.