i don’t grieve when my layers shed.
it’s all a part of my monthly rebirth.
i’m a split yolk,
milk teeth hanging on by a thread,
all the texts i wouldn’t send.
stability stings like tweezing splinters.
i don’t want my mother to recognize me.
eighteen has been screaming change since day one.
i can’t teach myself how to smoulder.

i am every song you’ve ever liked
with ****** features warping into a screen with your favourite memories on it.
i play continuous layers of sound,
overlapping my words into a familiar chorus of your own likes.
i am only what is seen and heard,
hidden unless noticed.
my characteristics are chameleonic.

not an ounce of me is mine, but they call this body mine.
a psychiatrist once said to me,
“you steal their traits so you feel more easy to accept.”
it’s just because i’m just too easy to reject.
so i will reflect what is shone on me,
i will paint myself to be your preferred artwork
and step only to your rhythm.
isn’t that the way you want it?

tonight the streetlights whisper sweet baby,
then the street turns black.

the ghouls from yesterday dig their molars into the crown of my skull.
and they
bite
down.

i writhe with shame like cherry stems being twisted,
i always reassure myself i can be broken and pretty.
the sun is a latex circle,
it’s last one in my pocket.
i can only talk to boys when i want them to slit my neck.
or is that just what lust feels like?

eyes strained wide with wonder tilted up at the new moss stripes appearing in the sky
the streetlamps have never looked as angelic as they do tonight.
as i walk to the metronomic beat of the song inside my headphones
heart's struggling with its size and beat of the flames blazing within
my head feels busy with a buzz of racing thoughts-
thoughts
thoughts
thoughts

but i am the holy one tonight.

aches and pains feel light as i step forth
there is no past there is no future there is only me
me: the one who purges the devil prodding the inside of my skull
through quick taps on a keyboard
typing out what cannot be spoken chugging back what cannot be spilled puffing in what cannot be let out
i am no longer the curse i swore i put upon my loved ones
hope leaves a rash on my forearm and the scratching proceeds

for i am the holy one
but, only for tonight.

one bite out of one peach / one bite out of one boy that has kissed with nothing but bared teeth in his past / hoping / not to get too used to the flavour of a taste loved too much / his stomach held / nothing / a simple buzz of nothing / simple is not / the word to explain this situation / simple is not (the) word to explain / how these nights tell one boy / that he is so alone when / his stomach aches / there are no more peaches left due to his own gluttony and impulsivity in the kitchen / (world) / two bites out of two peaches / two bites out of the sticky / icky / sickly peaches / their coat of fuzz has been (renewed) / these peaches / fresh / one boy holds a boy / that has walked miles barefooted / across a border drawn with a black felt marker / a boy holds one boy / i-love-him-so-much-kind-of-**** / this time one boy lets his teeth retract for the sake of letting in / (this time) / their juices are mixed in with love / and then one boy can't remember what teeth felt like in the first place

the yearly act of dying and then resurrecting at dawn is no longer as holy
as it could have been the first time it happened
i, no longer have bones within this vessel of ache
and yet i am only tired when they ask if i am okay.
i am never tired even when i am exhausted there is a lub-dub within,
pounding the doors i have
built, to see if i was
capable of safety within these hazardous conditions.
prophetically,
i vision that as i step off the gallows stage
into a trust fall choreographed by a world
that promises to me he is better than this,
there will come
a slither of venom into the halls of this highschool and
the crowd will unhinge their chests and
let the cyanide bubble their veins and
cry out lyrics about how
who we are is who we are is who we are—
but i am only tired, i say.

under the moon
i am a werewolf begging for change
clawing at the human parts of me

              I AM NO LONGER HER / I AM NO LONGER HIM!
              I AM NO LONGER THE PERSON I WISHED TO BE!

gnawing identity with honed molars
i bite down, savor the taste
                                                           ­            yet
                                                             ­                  i,
spit out the chewed pieces into my palm.

I AM SICK OF THE MONOTONY I HAVE CREATED! I AM SICK OF THE DESTROYING BEHAVIOURS KNITTED IN MY NEURONS! I AM SICK OF THE CRYING-INTO-THE-TOILET-BOWL!

i drink to my health, i drink to my sanity /
                                                                ­           i drink to the changing
                                                            mill­stones that grind within me