forcing the exhale
that constant, paranoid, choking feeling
is my burden. my daily struggle.
my inability to stop thinking and just breathe.
stay gold pony boy.
Stay gold. two words. Eight letters. Representing the underlying philosophy of my entire existence.
she left them bare
her fingers got fat near the end
in another lifetime she perched me on the kitchen table
slid her thumb and forefinger through the scissors
and snipped my bangs brutally short