鈥淥n paper, my brain looks like someone
let the Very Hungry Caterpillar off his leash.
On paper my colors are unusual,
rare blooms in an untouched jungle,
the kind that smell like corpses
I push ten-letter words into my mouth
with my fingers, so far back that I
trigger my gag reflex, forcing myself to
swallow them like you force your dog
to take its medicine; for its own good.
I am a television boogeyman.
I am my grandmother.
I am the man who killed her.
I am sleepless, sleepless.
Every so often I taste pennies
but can never remember why.
Every so often there are corpses in the bathroom.
I pluck an insect from a hole in my skin
and crush it between my teeth.
I am a person who should not be."
--Olivia, Student