i break things, as a hobby
glass teapots and hearts
i rupture the awareness of time
broken watches, second’s slip
darjeeling bitter on my throat
slurs down and I puncture
the memory of me in others
stab away the possibility to go back
to whom I was, and thus I gloat
I let them drown in false hopes
on sharp pebbles make them stand:
expectations weak, cold stream
covers my head an umbrella, black
hiemal hail the wishful tries
of my mother, my father, myself
to make me normal– make me pretend
return me to the ground, ice cold
next to burnt grass, hoppers afraid
of giving in, winter’s chill, to fear itself

i break hearts and eyes,
the image of myself in their minds
i’m not the same, i say, shattering glass
who really is? the shards cry back

falling from the sky, i tear bones
claim them as mine, their arms,
all mine, or not at all, not in love
toothed scissors cut out forms,
alligator’s jaws, marsupial’s pouch
a flag, victory, i am there
a mere splinter of life
fracture of a minute, your sight
i don’t care anymore, busted– my voice
and snaps the branch once more: who does?
the truth severe severs the path
i wouldn’t know, i daren’t ask

a shiver:
again hoovers my skin to their thoughts
their frightful eyes, unwilling hearts
i’ll smash them soon, rive their veins
yank myself away, apart


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