25.4.24

elegy to the cramping of style

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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