who in the hell knows

it's the 3rd
and the taste of vomit has
carried over from the day before.
images of whataburger. watermelon. water and bile
in the sink. in the toliet. in the bathtub.in a shoe box.

and all i really want is a hoodie.
and not feel as if my insides feel like i'm a misfire
and want to make a run for it.
i want me, inside. thinner but that sickly.

picture me in death's corner.
mixing stomach acid and tears
as if to create a gumbo of yesterday seemed so much brighter.
pushing, in a world where wishing means nothing.

those days when fairly tales pages are stuck together
and tile floors chill bones
a hoodie would be helpful