HUNGRY KID NEEDS MONEY FROM PIGGY BANK (or: BORED KID NEEDS GEODE FROM ROCK)

by Shy Watson

i turned everyone
i touched
into a freak
the sky was heavy
the curtains were gold
like i told you, the tassels,
in the front row again
i held my tongue
& spilled my soda
like a fool
i texted for comfort
it wasn’t real
i saw the vision
& then it expired
your tooth was loose
at the gallery
the cursed girl in the mirror
how she prayed
and at the party
i whispered hey there
as if it meant something
as if i were a friend
i wish i had
not met strangers
& then cast globes around them
but i did & then i crawled
into the globes
& globes always shatter
it’s a disaster at my party
there’s a funny girl tonight
stuck under the ceiling fan
sweat caught in the ankles
and oh god, the phone,
it won’t stop buzzing
i take out the trash
in a trance,
i pee in a trance,
i fuck myself
& when i do
i exit my body
what i miss most is
the cattle across the street,
the scent of hay,
& being able to rely
on the sky
it isn’t easier
skipping funerals
water out of wine glasses
folding toilet paper
to soak up the blood
i found it simple
when i was surrounded
then hard when i wasn’t
a cracked egg is still an egg
so i wasn’t wary of you
and when my therapist asked
if it’s all about me
i smacked my gum
i wore a side pony
tied w/ a scrunchy
i broke both of my legs
in the bathroom stall
that day
& then bowlegged,
i bent down & cried

my powder fell
from my pocket
then crumbled
all over the floor

i pulled the fire alarm,
watched it all clump up
like wet litter
then wandered
the wet, long, empty halls

Shy Watson is a writer living in Brooklyn, NY. She tweets at @proverbialthot.

Photograph: Geode