Trash
May 25, 2012

by Elexa Rose
 
I don’t want to breathe
unless I’m
breathing in sickly sweet.
I will unwrap and suck and swallow.
I watch lights
in shapes of people,
they speak but
I don’t care.
My body
doesn’t want to move.
Why should it?
It sticks out where it should
slope inwards.
I wish my
eyes had that look,
that look that catches.
 
Trash
it spills over and
up the walls and
over my toes.
It runs.
 
Please don’t look at me
unless you really
want
something.
I’ll let you hold my
hands
and we’ll watch trash and
listen to trash
talk trash
smoke trash.
Intricate symbols
and electrical impulses
in our heads
let us feel
beautiful.