You we born on a leap year. Fill in the gaps. Spinning gears keep catching your cracks, skipping teeth, keep calling you back, telling stories pretending they’re fact. Let me go. Too unstable to wane. Chewing wildflowers to numb the pain.
Cut the lines. You’ll be fine but if you break when I break, will you carry me away? Will you fall on your blade just to hear when I’m saying I can’t?
You came out. Started bruising. Find it tough to admit when you’re losing. Oh, what should i think? Carefully crafted commercial disaster. They take what you’re after to get what they want out of you.
Dissociate from touch. You’re tilting to pull the others with you. Posed shakespearean skull, we see in different pictures. You play the imperial stealing the power to waste away. You took the comfort from the lights in her soul. Projected map of the body: it’s crass, abject, colonial. You passed dis-ease presented to you at birth. Held underwater told to scream your self worth. It wasn’t good enough. Entrust the secrets to the backs of your arms. Killing the self as to protect it from harm.
And the sirens cry loudly. I’m reflexive. I cry loudly. You put my picture in framing. Hung forever, left me strangling. Called me baby. And with your nature reversed and our home as our cage, you caved and you asked “is this coming of age?” As you climbed out the window, your face cold as stone, you lifted the towel. Your wrist showed the bone. Held my breath in the ER, I swayed as I stood. I tried to stay steady and protect you the best that I could. And you pretended to sleep the entire ride home but I heard you crying when you felt alone.