This is like a life. This is lifelike.

I climb inside a mistake

and remake myself in the shape

of a better mistake—

a nice pair of glasses

without any lenses,

shoes that don’t quite fit,

a chest that always hurts.

There is a checklist of things

you need to do to be a person.

I don’t want to be a person

but there isn’t a choice,

so I work my way down and

kiss the feet.

I work my way up and lick

the knee.

I give you my skull

to do with whatever you please.

You grow flowers from my head

and trim them too short.

I paint my nails nice and pretty

and who cares. Who gives a shit.

I’m trying not to give a shit

but it doesn’t fit well on me.

I wear my clothes. I wear my body.

I walk out in the grass and turn red

at the sight of everything.