“brain gone bad”
my molars are dancing, tekka-tekking to the strung-out
paint can groove of my heart. neck stiff as frozen.
every time I look in the mirror I’m sweatier.
pills taste sweet, but not like candy.
the kind of sweet I think baby vomit is.
someone cut me open,
poured cement under my skin,
and it’s just starting to harden.
4 am’s the same as noon.
I somehow missed the moon.
now I’ve turned yellow,
mellow and greasy as popcorn butter.
by the smell I might be decomposing…
three showers later the stink’s still there.
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