if i named you by name, you would take me as another trophy
maybe your favourite collected effort trophy
even though one of you is missing, gone,
i wish you could drown without drowning
so you could feel what it feels like to be your product
while you remain fake free
(but you’re lying in knee-deep water


dinner guest

i am quickly reacquainted with my year 8 depression
more familiar with who i am when i am no one to everyone
more familiar with myself when rolled eyes hint at a perceived lack of self-awareness
i am not thankful and i have never adopted kindness
i am graced by my guest more commonly known as Hypocrisy
and stupid dreams that died when i tried to
i let everyone take home a different clone of me because i don’t need her
and i never loved her
there is nothing genuine about this and my fingers have been crossed for eight years.

pretend people poetry

i used to have a green jumper
and a blue, pink, yellow …
i wish i could mourn the tasteless poetry i no longer get to read
no longer have the privilege to pretend to feel
or the wasting goodbyes i spit too frequently years too late
but i can’t step outside in my green jumper
because i’m covered in your gall to call me selfish,
ugly, worthless, i am covered in the low self-esteem gifted to me
i wish i could mourn the pretend people poetry
and the way medicine drowns its eyes in foggy late-night swims
it is more like carving a clay-like person inside this skin every day
because Greed for acceptance got me covered in hairline fractures

ginger snap

they told me no one cared about me in saliva-shut envelopes
sent me away to sit alone with their lies tucked inside my sleeves with bloody and snotty tissues
and it’s not 3, i was wrong
it’s 4, it’s 7, it’s 84
breaking me up like ginger snaps, a piece for you and a piece for you a piece for you and another piece for you
save the crumbs for me, everyone feasts
you tell me there’s nothing i should care about because nothing matters to anyone else
and a caught out lie is an accusation of character — lies are secrets you stir inside you while dinner cooks on the stove and your knuckles bruise
it’s 3 days without food because lies keep you full—————

pretend people


everyone i’ve ever met has told me the same small secret with their mouth shut
wanted the same quick ending for me
breaking conversations with silence — ‘don’t you know how boring yyou are?’
looks around the table like it’s time to stop now,
my only purpose is being their idea of a waste of space.
the three voices
they’re all real and i’m stuck in a pretend place


i op shopped around for my old skin
they said they sold it to make shoes, shoes worn for champagne
traced it back a year when i cut it open into shreds for me to wear like an ink blotch
happier, this is a Happy story
cloned out of a hospital bed, memories back inside a book of doll houses, remember me less