Cash Cow

I’m on my own; its all on me 

the weight 

is like a plush bear 

pressed inexorably into my whole body 

at once 

there is no out 

there is only plush 

and the strain to breathe 

everyone wants their money 

everyone wants me to 

f*****g MOO 

like the cash cow I’ve become 

but they don’t realize 

(the weight) 

they don’t know how my sides 

strain 

to inhale 

and how the bleat 

gets stolen by the stuffing. 

I’m drowning in plain air 

but they want me to perform 

they want to see my heels 

they want me to clap 

to dance 

to tell jokes

be the spark 

in the dark room 

but they don’t know 

(the weight) 

they don’t know 

the plush 

they don’t know 

that I drown every day 

more and more 

while only clear air surrounds me. 

They want my breath but it’s stolen. 

They want my bulk but it’s disintegrating. 

They want my stones but 

they don’t clack anymore. 

Fingers broken. 

Head lowly. 

I’m drowning in plain air 

this isn’t me waving goddamnit. 

This isn’t me waving 

hello 

to you.