it’s a fucking birthday!
cake is seeping out of my fucking eyes
and limbs
and lips
my brain is confetti
old celebration
that I smoked to death
hitting it with a rhythmic
thwackthwackthwack
until the whole thing
bursts open like a fucking
spiral staircase of snakes
winding through
every branch of my
alleged consciousness
put on a cone hat
if this were white
they would have fucking
killed me
would it be a favor?
a good old party favor?
see the goldfish through that film–
the thin plastic
holding its breath
inside a bubble
never to leave,
perpetually staring at
prospective suffocation
forget it,
I’m staring a the mirror
and it’s staring at me
melting into the wooden floors,
I splinter every inch of my skin
freckles are just memories
disguised as allure
it's difficult to believe
that you never noticed them;
do you only see black in
the night sky?
you love my little stars,
the way they crinkle when I laugh
so fucking
tell me so,
if I age another day without it
the candle will get shoved
down your weak watery red esophagus
in hopes that it’ll finally
put some fucking fire
in your insipid soul
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