the basement bathroom smells like vomit and vanilla
chairs scoot and students shuffle above my head
the basement bathroom has a broken lock on the door
custodians missed a splotch of blood on the tiles
the body shakes and shivers, bile empty and bleeding
i clutch my stomach i cry and i hunch
my wrists and thighs itch for sharp touch
a cruel mimicry of anothers experience
how i function in this academic pestilence
who taught me this?
how to love-hate-hurt and pull myself apart
was i always going to become
were there signs? where were they?
i do keep my eyes peeled, you know
im superstitious and paranoid
and every day at eleven eleven,
ill knock on my skull and hope
so where is it? the proof ill change
theres none that i see
these tiles are all the same
repeating patterns
repeating battery
upon the bare floor i scratch,
seeking something below to explain
who am i, without my writhing in pain?
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