I don’t want to waste
Another second of my life
Surrounded by morals
Outlining why
fetus = me

I don’t want to listen
To your preordered sermon
With the ending I can guess
I’ve heard it already
In my mind

I don’t want to talk
To anyone who judges
As quickly, harshly as me
So I stay indoors
Out of the sun

Because everyone is human
Everyone is the same
Nothing is new
And I’m going to waste away
Before I’ve gotten wasted.

Maybe you were afraid
Of being the only one
Without a girlfriend to buy
Useless crap for on holidays

Maybe you liked the way
I looked from a distance
Respectable and shy
Tittering nervously

Maybe you secretly want
Your dad to fuck you
Up the ass instead of
Having to hold my hand

I’m sorry I looked so disposable
Remind me never to giggle
Or feign embarrassment
When the boys tell their clever
Jokes about female anatomy

My interest is a perversion
I eat your flesh as
You offer up repentance
To an inconsistent symbol
“He forgives all sins,
You’ll be as pure as snow.”
You say on Monday, obliged
With fear and stupidity
And I should be ashamed that
You stole my middle class
Suburbs, complete with
Two kids and endless laundry

Six inches at least
And that’s only vertical
You were so foreign
Stepping off the plane
Surrounded by Japanese tourists
Tall, blonde, smiling

I could only remember
The way we used to laugh
Effortlessly beat the crap
Out of each other
I’m not in love with
The god you’ve become.

The sun streaked
Across his chest
Leaving stripes
Like a criminal in the old
Saturday morning cartoons

He’s so full of cliché

Severed grass becomes
Him almost as much as
The burn that’s beginning
To highlight his cheekbones
He doesn’t feel the pain

Because it’s beautiful

The day we went to the beach
Is always leaping at the
Corners of my eyes
Peripheral vision is almost
Enough to satisfy

Figures on the sand
Drawn crudely as if
They were bathroom graffiti
Minus the midnight epiphanies
And genital fantasies

Nevermind.

When she was alive
I abhorred her existence
The permeating smell of
Burning cigarettes
The perpetual glow of
Too many dye-jobs

Failure corroded; persistent
Terror on my virginal soul
Unused to lethargy
Bred off educational videos
And high-protein energy drinks
Spawned for success

Eleven-year-old elitist
Prepubescent murderer

Sometimes
When the lights in the
Kitchen are especially yellow
Grimy, Liana will flicker
And tell me
I’m cute

Usually
My face will get hot
And red, like a tomato--
The new-girl’s patron fruit
Because she has acne
And fiery hair.

It drained past my shoulders
Rooted at the trunk of
My satisfaction and longing
He called me Pocahontas

Falling into the jaded grass
His crisp, white western hat
Tangible masculine confidence
John Wayne is jealous

We are so vain.

Grainy elephant tusks
Leave transient fossils
On my chubby, Popsicle
Sticky hands.

This pachyderm is called
Isaac like the one in
The Bible whose rebel wife
Had a nose ring

Sunset. Exhibits close.
Mum is anxious to go.
I’m sad because I lose him.
Isaac eloped.

Shooting up in ears
Get my audible fix
Independent is religious
The Pope is a gorgeous
Tragic addict

But now

It’s getting old
Can’t turn any tricks
Teenage apathy turns
Your midlife crisis burns
A hole in the ceiling

Letting out
Inhibitions
And letting in
The rain