tw: implications of self harm and suicidal ideation, nudity

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growing up a bare doll, i gripped the wind between

my silky thighs in hopes of staining the sky

with my nudity. is this begging? the way i paint

my roof, golden koi caught in our mixed blood;

tossing matches down my throat to light up my

organs because the bleach has run dry. darling,

we’re all plastic until the sun bleeds into our lungs.

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tonight, i carved god on my fingertip with a needle &

licked the blood. his words stuck to my calloused tongue:

i am a body; the smirk of my hip, the glare of my jaw,

the promise of skin against bone against fire.

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tomorrow, i am a cigar; cradle me between your teeth

& let your tongue burn free, bare child of our god.