reworking

give me a pass,
i need to go crouch in the bathroom stall, i need to wait it out.

stand, but i can never walk with any purpose.
when you make it home, kid,

eat your dinner alone.

i can make my legs twist and bend; my arms stretch and flow and when they do, i am told i am important and unique. talented, delicate. i am told i am beautiful but it sweats out my pores, it moves all the way down to my waist, see these bones?

blood rushes to the surface, blooms red, green, blue, black. my head never clears.

(you gotta feed yourself, make yourself strong while you are surrounded by decay. you can’t sink. hold onto your mama, she’s shakin’ like a leaf.)

spend too much time in dark, climate controlled rooms with sweating drinks and sweating boys. the one i choose blows smoke in my face and we shake the walls when we fight. we move the building when we scream. his hand grips my hip and i won’t eat, i won’t feel, i won’t even blink for months. do your worst.