you asked me what I want
like it's that easy,
like I can just tell you so easily,
like I want- I want-
I want to hear myself think.

I want to reach out and touch you
with any part of me
besides my awful dreaming eyes
and I want to draw pentagrams
in greasepaint-black sharpie
all over my thighs
until someone, satan, anyone
tells me to cut it out.

I want I want I want
so many godd*mn things...

I want to scream a mantra,
the proof of my existence
out of my bedroom window
I am I am, I AM--
oh f*** you, sylvia.
you stuck your head in the oven
years ago and left the rest of us
here to drown.

my mantra is and always
has been completely selfish,
I want I want I want-
I want to remember how it feels
to feel anything but this.