i am a small pink cube

moving slowly amongst

green and blue triangles

 

CUT ME

OPEN AND COUNT MY

RINGS

 

i am a

collection of neuroses

 

count them with me

one two three

 

to be heard

is to

embolden

and sometimes

CAPITALISE

 

unless

you have

been heard

already

 

(i find your teeth

at the bottom of

each bottle)

 

CUT ME OPEN

AND COUNT MY

RINGS

 

one two three

emergency

 

maple syrup

lick my

maple syrup

 

i am depression

i am anxiety

i am fat

i am thin

i hate

i love

i lust

i am not

a classification

i am just the same

as everyone

who is different                who is different?

 

i am

every

classification

you can think of

blitzed up

fucked up

 

an innocent

smoothie

stained with

sin

sin

sin

sins of the father

sins with my mother

 

i am the spunk you wipe up

after every immoral thought

 

turn the fucking internet off stuart

and do some fucking writing

stop licking up syrup

 

can’t you see

i am worthwhile

can’t you see

listen to me

i have thoughts

i have feelings

feelings

feelings

feeling

 

like i am made

of not just syrup

of more

more

feelings

 

sometimes

everything just crumbles

 

i am pluto

declassified

forgotten

 

i am plato

bearded

troubled

dead

 

sold into slavery

by jesus christ

dead on the cross

 

syrup

 

i am desperate

for you to just

just

just

 

peel away the veneer

and touch the grain beneath

 

peel away

the veneer

 

the self

 

the barriers

 

and just

feel the grain

drink the syrup

 

CUT ME OPEN

 

AND COUNT

THE RINGS
 

i cannot

format

this life

to be

more

legible

 

jeremiah 8.20

says

we are doomed

 

jeremy beadle

had a strange

hand.