Not sure what I would do
if I still had to travel
far to see the moon and stars.
Sometimes I think God forgets you
in steel and glass lives.
Sees me better when I can see It.
Food pinched in fingers seems
to weigh pounds lately.
And sticks to my insides like
gum under a desk. Drags on my
skeleton like its own animal.
But stars take me as I am.
See me as light and unsaturated
when I feel I might be a magnet
to the world.
And while I have no sin quite like
and a minefield body,
the shrapnel of that life is impossibly
Am so concerned with consuming yet I eat myself alive.