Secrets

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at five, I believed in unicorns
at fifteen, I drugged my soul with love


plan for life? read a line.
I’ll marry the iconoclast Takashi Murakami
I’ll allow his pedophiliac fantasies
no artist didn’t love a massacre of innocence
as a matador of mendacity, I’ll flank his adrenaline, and let him spill his soul on his magnum
he’ll die as art.

the diamond solitaire fountain pen says I’ve accomplished success, the way I’m holding it says implies it wasn’t easy
if I were a book and my skin were the cover, I’m a New York Times bestseller
New York Limes?
my royal brother, you’ll never find scars worth as much as mine.
Love the Queen, please.
I’m the prick at the end of the thimble!
Would you color me, or let me be a scribble?
no. 2 pencil, only.

where the asymptote curves to synchronize with the E
where you laid me out, tribute for the living

you’ll tell me one day, too far ahead, that you cannot accept the stalemate that is life
you’ll divorce your mistress.

if you don’t keep my secrets, I’ll keep you forever





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