This is who we are
broken people scratching the face of the world
picking our scabs
rats scurrying across our toenails
endlessly coughing up blood
caressing the eyelashes of beauty
like a doe, always prancing
just out of our reach
and the scars expose us
as mutinous, begging for death to come
but remember
we don't always want what we wish for

and as one of these mangled creatures
fused together at the edges
with pieces of a hardened dream
underground, I have no star to feed me
I don't know anything about the earth turning
(except that it brings me with it)
All I know is that in my desert
you are the oasis

and I carved it in my arm
skin dry from unheard of lack of nourishment
after all these years
I will never be good enough for you

and in this dream I tear off my eyelashes
I pinch my neck
but must accept
that mutated baby
this is who we are