"very good" they wrote
i nearly ripped the paper to bits and
threw it in their god-forsaken faces
"very good" makes my blood turn, slice, and seep from my wrists
i'd rather die than see those words again--or lack of words

even "excellent" is not enough anymore
(enough, like anything has ever been enough)
i crave Perfection,
i sink down to my grimy knees and crawl agonizingly
towards Perfection
forever destined to fall into its pits and
extinguish in the blink
of
an
eyelash

greatness.
i want--
greatness or nothing.

i want my name to be known for millennials to come
my footsteps to be recognized by the youngest fawn
the crowds to step aside and bask in my flawlessness
the shape of my lips, hips, fingertips memorized to the very vein

poets to sing verse after verse until blood comes up instead of music
soldiers to **** and torture for the simple hope of meeting my eyes
kings to deem me the Ideal, the Best in front of all pitiful peasants
lovers to cut into their own chests to confide me their hearts

for,
if my light were to be a dying ember left on the side of the road,
and a child picked me up to smooth their fingers on my sharp edges
giggles and smiles at the flickers of sparks lighting inside me
tuck it in their pockets, and be loved every day for as long as i live

no--
that would not be nearly quite enough.

all night my sister
retches in the toilet
a bug crawls around my own stomach
nothing like hers
i sneak into the kitchen
drink madly from her cup
and swallow her half-chewed food.

god i hope i get it.

those 3 middle schoolers got salmonella
from the kebab place down the street
now
no one ever wants to go i understand
but i
stop by as often as i can.

god i hope i get it.

i only ever see her going into or out of the bathroom
eyes welled, teeth yellow, lunch bag empty
i reach inside my throat
i want to be
like her
but tears leak and ***** doesn't.

god i hope i get it.

last night i finally did. i
shoveled food into my mouth, unable to stop until
my vision blurred and when i
knelt down and watched
murky colors mix with the ceramic reflection
i just felt deceived
the bug was still within me
crawling, creeping, ceaseless torture
unwilling to ever leave.

god i hope i lose it.

moment of weakness, of carelessness
a scintillating sparkling spark and then--
"****!"

it all gushes out,
you poke and touch and squeeze
more. more more. addicted.
red brushstrokes in its wake, like Monet
wave the finger around to strangers!!

someone tells you to wash it off
the blood dotting the silver band, the written pages of scribbled font
not the right time, not the right person.
so they say, so they scrub with soap
--i'm taking it all back.

it stings now, doesn't it?
the shame, humiliation mixed in.
can't even twitch without the hissing pain
war veteran or loveless child
lethe, oh, lethe.

brush away the wilted petals from time to time
fine, it only hurts when you remember how
but the scar lingers--will linger.
as a teenager longs for soft eyes,
i do for you.

there's a boy in my class who's sick
and his hair has already fallen out in chunks
and his eyebrows are thinning
and his skin has turned to flaking paper.

there's a boy in my class who's sick
and he doesn't come to school as often anymore
and though he used to be gifted, his grades have dropped
and his eyes are just two empty pools of water.

there's a boy in my class who's sick
and i wish i knew him more to offer comfort or aid
and decipher if that smile on his lips is fake or not
and tell him I care. because i do.

there's a boy in my class who's sick
and my cheeks used to flush whenever i saw him
and i used to write poems about his blonde locks
but i never confessed because it doesn't even matter anymore.

there's a boy in my class who's sick
and i worry that one day
i'll never see him again.

the overwhelming chlorine enfolds itself unto my skin,
the fluorescent lights paste themselves to the back of my eyelids,
the cold salt-less waves lap against the harsh brown concrete,
over and over and over again.
every monday.
every thursday.

it's one thing to be plunging in the water,
shuddering and choking on that awful taste,
falling behind since elementary because--
no matter how hard you kick or how intently you listen,
you're the slowest one there--
and--
you. can't. get. better.
that's all fine.

it's another to stand on the deck,
awkwardly shift your body to look smaller, fold inwards,
smooth out your eyebrows until a few fleck into your fingers,
dig your nails into your arms (but, careful! don't be obvious about it),
try to smile and--

every monday.
every thursday.
i go back to that awful awful pool deck
that reeks of chemicals and humiliation
that always makes me retreat into my cells

and

every monday.
every thursday.
i reconsider the possibility of
drowning myself,
in the pool.

i guess all those nights i spent studying
just weren't worth it.

and the hot flashes of nausea that kept me from sleeping
were just warning me of my incapacity.

and my cuticle-less fingers that dripped blood on the exam paper
must not have been wanted it enough.

and my stupid brain was foolish enough to believe that
i'd "done my best"
(was it? was that all i could have done? ever?)

god what was the point of it.
god it's not even that big of a deal.
god you're just stupid and you're inefficient.
god maybe you should have just done better
god you just can't get it can you
god if this is hard, imagine college
god stop! stop hitting your wrist against the table, it's not helping!
god google it, can you lose your academic gift?
god imagine their faces when they see your score
god how will you hide it now
god help me i can't go back don't make me go back please please
god wow you really thought you did well you thought you earned it
god what if you didn't care about it, then it wouldn't matter
god imagine that, you don't study, and all the expectations are gone
god imagine that, you don't try.

you don't try.

oh.

maybe i shouldnt try anymore maybe i shouldnt try anymore maybe i shouldnt try anymore maybe i shouldnt try anymore maybe i shouldnt try anymore i shouldnt try anymore i shouldnt try anymore i shouldnt try anymore i shouldn't try i shouldn't try i shouldn't try i shoudn't try i shouldn't try i shouldn't try i shouldnt try i shouldnt i shouldnt i shouldnt i shouldnt

to love is to suffer
to suffer is to love

so when you reach your hand down my throat
and rip my heart from my chest,
when you curl your fingers into fists and
beat them against my face,
when you smile tauntingly and tease and mock and humiliate and manipulate me,
when you curl your fingers against the stitches that i restitch
every morning, every afternoon, every night,
and yank as hard as you can until the blood flows like red peonies against my skin

to love is to suffer
to suffer is to love

i don't mind.
it's okay.
i don't mind.
i don't.
because i love you.

to love is to love
to suffer is to suffer
or was it something else?
because i can't tell anymore