Week of 820

Styes and mouth sores

Tea bags for eyes

Daktarin from drugstores

Songs that hypnotize

It's a violent week

Still, I solidify

We're isogenic and bleak

But we're daughters of a blue sky

Insect bites on my face

Upper gums are swollen

Tell me, is my room cursed?

No, the spirits here are kind

Is the world playing a joke on me?

No, I'm not that self-centered

Couldn't make out what this could be

I could take my guts out if I have to look inward

Magic medicine, my scorching cheeks

Flush inside me, straight into the earth's core

Pain is a wake-up call, transfix is a reminder

Of all the things that I so achingly live for