today I ate until my sides croaked
I stuck two fingers in my mouth and fiddled
dirty water, brown dirty bubble water
I lit a bowl
and sucked in the wetness
so the skin on my face did not feel so dry
from the last time he kissed my forehead
this is not poetry.

tomorrow I will bleach my hair off
then smear my charred scalp pink
and I will buy a pack of cigarettes from the only place in town that doesn’t card
and learn to puff on the sticks
so that I look cool
tomorrow I will not eat a damn thing
and I will tell my mother I’m sorry
this is not poetry.

this is how I punish myself.

today I sliced off the only living part of my body
and watched it stain the snow in the school parking lot
he loved me and I told him I needed to burn a little before I could touch him again
the only dead things are stamped wet on his tongue from when he thought
he tasted stardust
between my thighs and
I know this. this is how I punish myself.

this is not poetry.

yesterday at 2 am his parents walked him through the hospital parking lot
and I was not there
dragons groomed themselves in the spaces with no cars
but I was in my mothers bed
because I took too many pills and sweat through my sheets again
this is not poetry. this is f***ing pathetic

tomorrow I will —-