i ain’t thankful for shit go fuck yourselves

Tan my skin for leather

Eat my heart and tell me what you taste

My blood weeps from my pores,

Red for you, please see how its red just like yours

Beat my teeth out of my skull for the hell of it

Can't you see I cry from it? Is it not what you would do?

Hang me at the gallows and watch me choke

My love wears holes in things.

I never learned how to mend.

My fingers too fat, I cry when they bleed.

Needle through flesh, thread through bone.

Stitched and wheezing, cauterized but frayed.

Gritty, oily stains cut out and sewn back in.

My love wears holes in things.

Copper-filled veins knot under puckering rubber skin.

Corded bands fray, stressed muscles clench under current applied.

Communication in flickering lights and heaving air through dusty, sticky lungs.

Audio and visual swim in tinnitus keening and datamoshed retinas.

It grew over me, really.

Curled around my roots and laced through my bark.

Reached out to the sky with me, wisps of desperation just like like us all.

Leaves grew over mine, comfortingly, blotting out the harsh sun.

The starvation feels like home.

Like kudzu.

Watching the clouds slide across the dew point like clouds of beaten egg white across a glass bowl

I imagine myself sitting among them, atop the glass floor, wishing to find my way to the ground

To run my fingers through grass and nap against trees

To smile when an ant crawls across my bare feet

Why hide your art? Why lock away your writing?

Do you not wish to be seen?

Why is that?

What will happen when you are seen

What do you think will be received by those who perceive the shape of your soul?

You shame your love by hiding it from the sun.