i make myself sick.

can i please just stay at home? i don't want anyone to see me.

can i just-

v.

lost all coherency

numbers on a scale control
me. my body controls my mind.

the creature i hate most in the world is: me.

i can't even muster a poetic phrase, @#!$#* isn't enough to express my frustration.

iv.

dishevelled hair, barely touched the whole day
fifth/eights of the day passed in the land of hopes and
dreams. santa's face imprinted on my pyjama bottoms
'i love danish boys' tshirt, not mine

feel the breeze brushing against my skin
escaping its way through the tangles-
numb fingers, pale face, loose lips,
a queen cigarette, egyptian.

thoughts elsewhere just:
inhale, exhale.

iii.

fingers to fingers palms to
palms flesh to flesh ear to chest.
the distinct beats a proof you still have that
vital, tortured, recycled organ
and i too for double beats are audible.

barely audible whispers, murmurs.
'light one up'
vinyls in the background draining our voices
crisp, flirtatious parisian accents echo

let us sleep now.

ii.

set my lungs
ablaze. on my heart a trigger you pull,

fragile

carbon monoxide, suffocation. lie me in
a tub as did cee with her laminated virgin mary

fragile

in the oven, feet first. on my neck
harsh imprints of your fingers

so fragile

crack my bones like knuckles. last of all-
the noose.

[ still so fragile ]

i.

nails scraping at my skin
grip, dig, suffocate, devour, relish.
harsh, bloody, hunger, delight, perish.