put the poem down & go the fuck to sleep

rip me in half, the sheet of paper that i am. holding my fibers intact as the tree holds its rings. tighter. tighter. i wind & coil around myself, twisting into something tolerable, but never tangible nor beloved. i ash, drip from the tip to the tray, fumigated & flammable, maybe laughable if you pinch your nose when you dunk under the layers of ocean, salt spraying back like a cat on the table. maybe kissable if the lighting is right & the script says so. i’m off book because i wrote it but you still say the lines all wrong & warped & wobbling like you’re too drunk to make the words stand up straight & walk the line. there’s no room for hurt underneath my nine inch nails that scrape my skin just gently enough to remind me i can be touched like i matter but only in the solitude of a ruptured night sky, split by starlight & moon goggles. loneliness never makes good decisions or the bed in the morning after flailing with my clitoris trying to extract enough dopamine to stave off the tears long enough just to fall asleep. & the sleep never lasts long enough to erase the shame of being so utterly forgettable. the luster never sticks like barbecue to ribs, like glitter in the plastic packaging, like your tongue to the roof of your mouth trying so hard to avoid mine because you fear the electrocution of tip to tip would outlast the drip of cum down my throat. but i’ll let you in on a little secret if you promise not to tell. there’s no electricity pulsing through me that would rewire you into wanting me. you can get as close as you dare & it’ll never be close enough to see me as human in the harsh glow of the sunlight peeling through the cracks in your blinds. my eyes are closed but i never really dozed off, my heartbeat never trusting the silence, the darkness, the pillow you were kind enough to tuck under my head. there’s a rotten deflection peaking in my throat, waiting to boil your hand print unrecognizable the moment you’re ready to stop pretending you see anything in me besides maggots feasting on sugar cane. i spend every hello anticipating the goodbye & i never learned to value temporary. so contortionist, elephants, & the ring master. not your circus, not your monkeys. just a stack of cages & a different piece of me locked inside each one not even bothering to rattle the bars or beg to be freed because exhaustion like boulders like sand bags like anvils. weighs me down like i could float away, balloonless & flame retardant. sink in the quicksand, it’s never where i think it should be. never in the jungles but tucked inside my loafers, waiting to suck me out of the body i thought belonged to me but it never belongs to me because they can undo my zip ties & slip inside like i am the loafer & none of the material actually added up to flesh but simply fluff & stuffing & synthetic fur. teddy bear girl & her belly & her pre-recorded “i love you beary much” & a giggle stolen from a little girl who didn’t know she’d never get it back.