i crack like a pistachio nut under the pressure
of the shadow you left behind. why?
you're hopelessly mediocre and yet your down calls
to me like a baby bird's silent squawk.

i am evolutionarily compelled for my heart to jump
through my skin to get a better view at you.

what is an ugly? other than blood you're afraid of
bleeding softly from each crevice of heart pumps,
the gray side of the moon and the corner of rooms
undusted and disemboweled reluctantly.

you are so beautiful in bright rags of black and blue
and i'll stay half-hearted as you ask me to judge
your thighs (perfect) and nose (twisted) by the weight
of your meat and soul respectively.

an ugly is an analogy for discomfort and newness:
people are scared of unfamiliar but i find the sensation
of biting my nails off for sport exhilarating. your mascara
looks horrible today and i will kiss it to exhaustion

i’d love to sugar your mouth,
gumdrops a sour lipstick compared to
umami tongue flickering with laughter

your hands are like syrup around mine
and i find it fitting to drown often
infinitely into the parfait puzzle piece.

“i haven’t eaten in days” i breathe on your
face while we forget that the playstation
whines still. “me either” your eyelash falls
on my shoulder and we dine on eachother instead.

when i stopped answering your calls i heard you
bitterly projecting over to where my friends sit
(my concrete friends not my real ones) you scream
“it’s no big loss
she had daddy issues.”

i remember that you didn’t floss your teeth
because you hated looking at yourself in the mirror,
and every night you would tuck in
your television instead of your baby sister.

i have issues with life: they tried to purge my very being
with fire and locusts, everyone involved too stubborn to win
i appreciate your efforts only in blood. please do not
boil my mistakes to a precipitate
of the fist that feeds me

i remember every headache reminiscent!
a taste of burnt oranges like little
flames of flames of oceans like vents
at the bottom of my Being that bubbled up
all stupid words and furrowed brow

i know exactly how much weight is in an “i love you”
and in weighing them obsessively 5 am with a bottle
of god-knows-who from dad-knows-where i realized
it doesn’t really matter as much as highschool seems.

don’t tell me i don’t know anything
my soul is older than
the bark of the trees in my backyard,
as i still hear them
flirting with the birds as if things are
possible at all

(no judgement. i used to do the same
boys and girls and cut and run
just toys that whirl with waterguns)

i am pillars of saltshakers for flimsy arms
to give a last salute to my army of ants,
and i step on their heads on the way to my
chair of golden hairs from the head
of an unassuming mistress, the light of my
lions and fire of my letters

they say envy is a toboggan ride to success.
my mother cradled me in pasty poverty,
do you hate someone for filling your heads with
surrealisms and lion-headed daisies?

i was destined for better than You and you and
you and you but i get worse than everyone
i am the monster of want and you are just afraid

a swing and a miss gives rise to a kiss
of pity and self-reassurance
just as nibbles on ritz are just dust to the rich
but a meal to the lips of the poorest

i am thirsty: for you, your ideas and words
and i’m slowly forgetting all that i have learned
your sermons can’t reach me so far from the shore
wedge the doors, sweep the floors, ask for more