I Dont Like It Here

i am a creation of empty minded sex and anger that plucks the heads from flowers i come from broken glass absorbed into the front seat from a desolated house where plates and pillows whisper dirty words where mirrors dont hold reflections i dont know how to form the letter u i dont know where to put my tongue or how to press my lips together without flinching or digging my fingernails into my palms i surrendered my name my body my mind to nurses in white coats and strangers with name tags i will not read i pulled the strings from my hoodies and left them at home in the bottom of the hamper where i forgot my tongue i tied my shoelaces on hooks where my face hangs to dry i sit and watch formless bodies pass i cannot close my eyes i cannot recognize the person i see he is staring so intently at me devouring my thoughts emptying my mind of reason tipping his brows upwards until his forehead tears and his mouth waters is he speaking? i cannot hear his voice it morphs into flat tones that throb against my forehead i cannot answer the questions he asks me but i cannot leave until i do i didn’t ask for dinner i push the food around my plate make piles in the corners so it looks like i ate i see faces when i look down they look hopeless they beg for me to come with them i swallow green pills and blue pills and white pills until my throat aches and i cannot see the world around me my pupils are wrapped in cellophane the doctor says it’s normal i do not like it here i dont like it here on this earth maybe i’m made for a different earth one with red skies and purple grass and homes made of straw that moan when you exhale i dont think that would be so bad something apart from all this