[because I have no soul]

elementary school said,

"money is the root

of all evil."

go to church

every sunday—

money will always

be first.

fucking paper

will always come first.

 

literal catharsis

splashed into the

toilet along with

my pain and my dreams—

metaphorically-

broken-

hearted

never so worthless,

so alone,

so angry,

so soulless.

 

pill-spawned tattoo

covered voice:

"poor little you as always"

"shut the fuck up"

"you are spoiled and selfish"

"you want nothing but money"

 

All antonyms of me

proving just my point

that they don't know

me and never will.

 

dominoes cup teetering

in my head—

Dante's Inferno on

the floor of the

unearned bathroom.

 

f

a

i

n

t

 

unable to defend

myself in a communist

conversation in a

totalitarian family

and I am not an adult.

never will be.

 

"you have always had everything you wanted"

repetition

"poor little you as always"

repetition

"quit crying!"

repetition

 

"I can't help it," I whispered

and meant it.

meant more.

 

for the first time

in my life I saw

myself through

my family's

transparent eyeball:

 

I'd rather see

through Emerson's

 

because theirs

paints me slowly

and corrodes me

like dorian gray:

 

soulless.

unwanted

since

birth.