this is not everything we've got so far

we were opening our limbs out to
be vulnerable for
what's falling from the sky.
we were rotating and gliding like poison does
in my glass.

deers spy on us when we're sinking in dusty couches
just to make sure we don't break each other's spines.

this artificial fruit juice tastes like deer jerky,
my hair is getting too long,
i should saw it off with safety scissors
or a rusty chair leg.

when i smile, my eyes ripen and die
like bright balloon plums on overdrive
(it's cyclical and anti-cosmetic).
but when my lips are stained red, my eyes explode
in a crazy spinning way
with a liveliness that makeup can't ever afford.

sometimes all you need to do is
touch at the chunky bile stains on your school clothes
so you can finally feel safe.

the power inside you raced against your ages,
your ages of growth,
cracking through your blood and skin
begging to come out
and be something more.

you look like a stripped tree of your own muscles and bones,
(not anyone else's)
sitting behind a fully-stocked hardware store,
with rings daily disturbed
but still trying to grow.

stop calling yourself names.

sometimes we drive through dangers
that we can't see before&after.
they're not made of uptight harelips,
cornered children
or apple wastes,
but close.

i know what i'm talking about, but probably won't
6 years from now.