Messy

I wonder what it tastes like to be lovely

to have the right to be needy, to be needed, need

a break from this body. This messy body.

with steel bars made of ghosts

—-all me, a me I left in August

listen to her,

she put whispers into my quiet words

said, Forget about it (Think about it)

she put another world in my hands, An Underneath

said, Come find me

I said, I have always tried

compost

i don’t think i ever will
get over it,
anything

i think i have egg shells under my eyes,
rotten rubbish piling up behind them.

and i want to change,
got told to change something (anything)
and i think i tried to fix me

i wish i didn’t collect
everything ever said to me (all bad)
and write it into my empty spaces

i wish i wasn’t filled with compost anymore

 

Realising

i’m realising that i sleep better with a belly full of poison 

than i ever have with a smile on my face

and that the only second look I’ve ever gotten was from myself, 

accidentally catching myself in the mirror 

and that people are trained to say what you need them to

and that nothing ends up the way they say it will. not ever.