Burrowing
this is a poem for those trapped in your own spirals of desire and decay...
stomach nausea greasy pesto pizza hot wooden bench splinters sticking into thighs air-conditioned coffee shop loud conversations laughter they are laughing about me rattling kitchen noises I’m so horny, I could be bent over fucked in the bathroom by a stranger hand around neck fist shoved down my mouth cruelty is my native tongue people are never attractive in person as they are in fantasy dandelions don’t grow through sidewalk cracks like they used to when I was younger the determination to squeeze through rock was never worth it to be stepped on, pissed on, for a few moments of freedom to stretch, feel the warmth of the sun chewy banana bread with chocolate chips falls apart in my mouth swallowing bitter lattes polished, smooth tables carry books, crumbs, coffee rings I’m covered in honey simple syrup, pixie dust ants crawl all over my arms and legs their bites sharp itching small bodies move burrowing from within
