no one wants to fuck you when you’re living 

by Halley Furlong-Mitchell
 
which is why you tell me you’re dead 
inside 
like every other boy 
I’ve ever met 
which is a way of saying nothing 
 
is beautiful anymore is it 
we are just wrong
to call a color a color
and me 
some animal, bloom instead 
into versions of ourselves that could be 
 
if maybe we had buried 
the right dog the right day 
instead of the one that barks 
I AM NOT YOUR HUMAN 
above my pillow 
but is always interrupted by another 
thing that breathes 
 
earthly you make me 
sciatic let me tell you about the 
inside 
I AM NOT YOUR HUMAN: earthly 
it is a cast 
and you are making it