one.

you think that you run this place. like you owe the world your glory. like they're proud of you and all your vinyl skinned knees and hard press smiles o holy one you're gone. nightmare Street is just down the line and we danced on starry nights in the rain like our clothes weren't wet and our rollerblades didn't slip. do you remember being happy, then? with the ocean in your eyes and rock water splashing in your ears you ran the world. kid you made the stars look like fireflies and the ocean look like puddles. your smile all chapped but you never cared much for it. always forgot your chap stick even when everyone told you. your mami couldn't stop you from picking your lips so she said to bite on them.

        two.

you are twelve, and the only thing you want to be is something other than yourself. you do not want the ocean lapping at your feet like it did when you were ten, you are too young to feel so empty. little one your best friend is in love with you but you cannot read between the lines. little one everyone hates you and you deserve to die. little one can't you hear it? the calling of the sky? the song of sparrow & saturn behind daylight seems so slim. slipping between your sunburnt fingers in mid-november. you've always hated the beach.

           three.

you slit the identity off your fingers and call them paper cuts. nobody's worried. good, you think, because you wouldn't know how to hide ones on your wrist. your mami finds the one on your forearm and says not to do it cuz she'll lock you in a psyc ward do you want to go to a psyc ward only crazy people do that. you think you might be batshit like this. dressed in black even when you burn so fast. you have a project and you're bleeding when it's not your fault and it hurts so much so you try to―

אָוווערדאָוס.

         four, arba―

einz, tzwie, drie, fyr, finiv, sexen, zimin, ackn, naan, tzwen.

einz, tzwie, drie, fyr, finiv, sexen, zimin, ackn, naan, tzwen.

einz, tzwie, drie, fyr, finiv, sexen, zimin, ackn, naan, tzwen.

you've mixed it up, maybe. the oatterns gotta fall somewhere. you've gotten used to second guessing yourself.

                five.

you might be crazy, really really crazy. maybe it's all just unfair.

(why do you always get yelled at when it's here fault. but you don't feel like crying right now. you just―

FLIP. oh. that's new.)

            six.

you sprain your ankle, get chicken pix, lice, lice, haircut again, you want it to be shorter but you can't tell your mami that. then you do. shave it all on the sides, you look like a boy. everyone asks. you don't say anything and your face must tell it all. you wonder why.

        seven.

(you step on a safety pin running through your abba's office. your not supposed to go in there, but you were playing tag. it hurts it hurts it hurts―)

just leave me alone all ready.