College

10 September 2013

Hysterical blindness but I can still see with my eyes,
Lamenting,
And mourning the life I forgot to live.

Groping at the clothes I forgot to
Dress myself in, and by accident pinching
The skin that fold in excess over my bones.--

My bones are stuffed with marrow that he says tastes like
Frozen meat cooked well-done.

The boys who look like men do not look twice at me--
In fact, they don't look once--
And the boys who look like boys flock to the
Girls who look like women.

With deep side parts in their hair and rubber skin with no pores.

My pores are collecting dust in the attic.

There is a boy here who looks like John Lennon and
Has hair down to his mid-rib-cage. I think about
F*****g everybody on campus when I don't think about the
Way the cars (would) feel from the edge of the sidewalk.

One blow to the head and you're sent back to the womb where you belong.

I know how the post office workers feel.

I don't look at the stars at night or drink screwdrivers
Out of red cups. I blow gray clouds in the air directly
In front of my face and walk through them as I pass
The groups of smokers leaning against brick walls.

They fog my eyes over.

I apply red lipstick very morning and bite it off when
People my age (What do they call those?
Peers?) pass me by without looking at my mouth.

The horse under my blankets looks like the one
In "Guernica,"
With a face like somebody speaking in tongues and
Dissolves into shapes like open circles and diagonal lines.

When I lift the sheet I see only mane.

It comes to my attention that I am not fluent in any language. I
Have no extremities.