Ink on clean linen –
this pen was meant for better things.
You've failed again.
And now I'm spiralling
down the rabbit hole.
The tiny circle of light
gets further away every second.
I know I should lick my wounds
but you want vinegar instead.
Here, I made a meal for you.
Why not a side of raw cashews
or a helping of salmonella?
Here, my darling,
I hope you’re hungry.
Failure. Failure. But I’ve hollowed out
the space between my ears.
I can’t hear you.
The bleach is here.
I'm frothing at the mouth. Failure. Failure. When life gives me lemons, I stuff myself until my sides ache. I can't help it.
Your outstretched palm is so inviting.
The tiny dot is getting smaller.
My arms flail about.
Where are the rabbits anyway?
Failure. Failure.
Sink your teeth into my skin. Do it. I can take it.