no one wants to fuck you when you’re living
by Halley Furlong-Mitchell
which is why you tell me you’re dead
inside
like every other boy
I’ve ever met
which is a way of saying nothing
is beautiful anymore is it
we are just wrong
to call a color a color
and me
some animal, bloom instead
into versions of ourselves that could be
if maybe we had buried
the right dog the right day
instead of the one that barks
I AM NOT YOUR HUMAN
above my pillow
but is always interrupted by another
thing that breathes
earthly you make me
sciatic let me tell you about the
inside
I AM NOT YOUR HUMAN: earthly
it is a cast
and you are making it