Some places in me
Are hollow
And if you press too hard
I'll cave in

I don't need empty reassurances
Of my wholeness
Just acceptance
Of my vacancy

But please know
That barrenness
Does not mean less
When it comes to loving you

There was something
pure in your eyes
and something
sinister about
your smile.
And my god,
I loved it.

I woke up hungry again
From the lack of food in the freezer
Sometimes I open it an pretend its full
But the pain in my stomach snaps me back into reality
No breakfast again
We try to conserve but the little we have
Just isn't enough
Mom has two jobs
Ironically to feed the both of us
She's working all day an all night for me and you
I wish we could see her
I know your hungry too
So here take my plate
Dont worry your my little sister its what any big brother would do
Im tired of being poor so here's what I'll do
I'll go sell drugs
Even if it kills me ill do this for you

The legs are two folded petals
tucked supplely under the weight of your torso.

The arms are a cloak thrown over the thighs;
hands are the frayed ends, fingers the wands.

The head nods at the end of its stalk
from day to day, toppled;
often forgetting it is attached.

Shooting up through you sits "The idea."
It balances over top the body and head like an egg.

The heart is gunfire,
semi-automatic.
Your hidden heart stands above the rest,
gnarled and crimsoning the strands.

It has grown into all parts of you,
and all your parts have inscribed into it
the memory of percussion.