over/looking/the kid at the front/back of the classroom

your mother/ hacked together skeleton wings into two-part pieces/ bleeding stars, you thought/ neurons fizzing out/ you had all the time in the the universe/ your eyes dripped down/ the back of your spacesuit/ a so-called prodigy ghost/ acid smoke and ashes like grey planet dust/ the moon is waning/today here then tomorrow gone/ astronaut helmet with a child-friendly glass window/ watch everyone from the window of your/secondary sources are lies/ time-out at recess/ math grades and jack stauber/ lavender arteries like your grandfather’s old letters saying/i'm sorry/ you didn’t want to grow up into/ failure in red Xs, a footnote/ graffiti on the neon walls of the public restroom/ etiquette is smiling when you get slapped in the face/ how does it feel to be/ rejected and so beautifully praised

mooncakes

VIC

15 years old

More by mooncakes

  • 17

    on the night that you broke your eyes open,

    cried into candy packets you found at the petrol station smelling like gasoline and regret

    in your still-standing baby teeth like slabs of sugared marble there were

  • ASHES AND BIRTHDAY CANDLES

    your birthday was halo-lit nights and cigarettes in sugar cakes—

    melted icing smeared over the tips of flames snuffed out in the dark.

    you asked for a songbird, said your lungs were burnt with apocalypse dust