i want to write something pretty about you

but when i pick the right words

they fall off my tongue

and flutter from my fingertips

and drift down
               and down

like petals plucked from a daisy

and when i’m left with a stem tipped with pollen

and a pile of dying bits of flower silk

my body wilts down
                       and down

into the garden you’ve planted around me

with no effort at all

there’s a gun i load with words instead of bullets

words instead of words you want to hear

words you need to hear


and the magazine disintegrates

the trigger clogs and dislodges itself

the gunmetal melts and siphons off my fingers

my hand
my arm
my shoulder

splinters my brittle rib cage

i’m twitching in a pool of my own blood and gasoline

and i’m made of fire

my nerves are on fire

turn and walk away as i combust and rust and turn to dust

and i’m begging you, fucking kill me

but i’ve been dead for too many moments to pretend this is being alive in the first place

Make sure you put the plants that grow from my fertilized flesh in a vase and water them with arsenic so they’ll grow.