think of it as a decaying process
of willfully turning myself into something bended ;
bloodshot eyes , skin rotten — snuffed . .

i am disordered
disoriented ,
from traumas scrawled around the book .

mother does not care
or will she , for once , when her daughter
now swinging against the decrepit hook

opened vials of powdered lithium scattered
on the bathroom floor
water sneaking between the shower door

no breathing they find on me
stiffed , sniffed , by my baby with fur
goodbyes written on letter is boon