sleepy

Everyday since that bad thing happened, I’ve been practicing                  a spell: how to disappear from yourself, within yourself. I’ve noticed each time I leave, something in me keeps                  going. Sometimes in me turns its back on me – someone else reflected in the mirror, someone else answering to my name.

–and what I really meant to say is, girls like us are fluent in silence. When we bite our tongues, we swallow the blood.

I must need new boys to text, but thank god for heath insurance. I haven’t brushed my hair in days and, finally, I had to take the scissors to my hair, cut away all the knots. I have this dirty habit of smiling at strange men as they call to me from across the street, make sure I leave them with the good strong image of my hips swinging. Everything is a hangnail, or a pile of laundry waiting to be done. I go to parties and it feels like everyone glows in the dark. It’s so weird because I curse in front of my mother and she laughs and says finally and gives me  money for rent, food, whatever. I don’t eat,  just sit on the porch and smoke cigarettes  and watch boys go to class and press my thighs together. I look at prices for laser hair removal, bikini waxes, organic manicures. The smell of silk makes me weep.