By Pascale P.
every day i get up at dawn, just to self-harm,
feeling like the new wolf in my kitchen
like the one that i saw, the only one
inside of that house tripping out—
and i see everything that i knew about myself
was just delusion—
needles and pins,
waking up my limbs from the outside in,
so, i’ll go all inside out again
disorderly
(previously published in Filth Lit Mag)