laying in his arms, huddled up right beside his chest
next thing you know we're kissing, while he's touching my breast
grabbing onto my waist, his hand running down my back
he's playing with my hair, while whispering down my neck

sirens going off in my brain, telling me to run
"run as fast as you can, you are not the only one"
his touch was an indicator for me to leave, but i didn't know how
temporary affection is what held me back, so i thought "it's only for now"

his hand was like a vacuum, every touch ****** bits of my soul away
i knew deep down his desire for my body was the reason he wanted to stay
the more he said he "fell" for me, the more i became sweaty
sweaty with genuine anxiety, for the fact that all i felt was empty

i gave every reason i could to leave but he twisted each excuse in his own way
"it's just a phase of emptiness & numbness you're going through, please stay"
every opportunity i grasped onto to escape
just led to me having my mouth covered with tape

not even self sabotage could free me from his control
so i decided to permanently walk away, but in my heart remained a hole
i constantly asked myself why i stayed when i couldn't feel a connection
but i realized he gave me what daddy didn't: just some affection

which is more fragile —
the mind, or the brain?

Angrily hanging up a smartphone lacks gravitas - jabbing a virtual button doesn’t offer the satisfying, physical release of slamming down a receiver.

Carved from marble,
                                                   marvelous and draped in my covers,
                                        floating above my head in a puff of smoke or
                                                                ­                 as a cartoonish memory

I stay in bed today,
peeking through the blinds.
Surrounded by no one but my
soft and artificial menagerie,
I'm bubbling at the lip.

There are sacks of rice sitting
right above my hips and they're
heavy. Who will help me hold them?
Pressing a thumb to the surface and wincing;
I can feel the grains shifting under my skin.

Today I cooked the rice.
                                                           ­                                             
                   ­                                                                 ­               , I swear.
Heat built up in the *** til steam was lifting off my skin^
Hard crunchy bits to tenderize,
softening under the lid.

When I felt that click,
I broke out my wooden spoon
and ate a big plate.
The warm fluffy substance blessed my full cheeks and belly.
For the first time,
I felt like I wasn't hungry.

Maybe tomorrow when I bathe
I'll grow 3 or 4 times my size.
Water-logged
I will fill up the tub,
ceramic squeezing my fleshy form into a
rectangular shape.

Stick a spoon in
and eat me piece by piece.

Sometimes in the morning
I'll crack my back so hard,
I think I might just
snap in half.