Let's see how fake you can be
Don't get me wrong
It's funny that you're trying
You're trying to be my friend
Why?
Why be my friend?
Because all yours realized that you're horrible
Oh, that *****
Oh, you didn't think I didn't know
Did you?
You didn't break our friendship fully
But you can continue playing that fake innocent person
Continue thinking that we are good
Just know, we aren't
I am just showing the world
Showing the world my tolerance
My tolerance for filth.

I first saw my grandma knitting when I was five. 
Wool yarn flowing through her fingers, 
As if it was a fairy tale by the brothers Grimm.
Magic was happening, giving birth to another 
sweater, or another scarf, or a dress I was probably going to wear. 

 I first saw a fashion magazine at the age of eight. 
It was full of clothes, full of bright, extravagant colours, 
I was amazed by this variety of art it kept inside,
a little girl facing her nature, her passion, her desire. 

 I was twelve when I first visited Germany &
realised that fashion had never been this far from people. 
Oaf boots and cerulean sweaters I was seeing everywhere
As a complete outsider, an offspring of another world. 

It was years after that I understood. 
Clothes are what we see & beauty is what we cherish,
But, if it is filth that you carry on the inside, 
It can never be covered by a little black dress.

Tipton Poetry Journal
July, 2019

how to i remove the topper
stomped on top of my head
why do i see through
lime stained goggles
no amount of elbow grease
unscrews the top
nor clears the glass

when were these
peanut butter walls built
the thoughts like gnats and flies
pile in layers to the wall
clear away one and
another grows grotesque
like an apartment
paired with depression

all i want is a clean slate
to build a new