my asshole, and why I keep checking its horoscope
why my secret identity is a factory-reject breast pump
why I only feel close to my ancestors when I eat an apple on a church stoop
the grave I’m digging with a golden shovel, cursing the bend of soft metal
why I keep getting blackout drunk on rain and everclear
why I invited everyone to my open air wake and gave out my problems as favors
the self-portraits I paint of the devil turning his back on me
why the only love song I can hear is an apology
why the end of the world keeps writing me love letters
the slash fic I write of museums and mountains
why the garden I planted grows nothing but unsolicited medical advice
why I forward her bill to the manic pixie dreamboy who hasn’t thought about me since 2014
how I survive, when in every alternate timeline I’m already dead
— FRANCES KLEIN
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