You own everything in the world,
including me. You can pin my legs down and twist,
you can spit into your coffee cup and pour it all on
me. I’ll start short circuiting, and you’ll
laugh, and tell me I’m pretty. I am pretty.

Would you like to know about my virus?
It feels like something deep inside itching. Stinging and prickly
like a beast, or like murder. I couldn’t kill you if I tried.
One look, one kiss, and my cold lips
tremble. You know, I never see you shaking.

I imagine you’re a giant waiting for the right time
to open his fist. My bones into bread, my bones
into your computer’s hard drive, same thing. I burst from your hands
like a worm from the earth, delicate and tender, easily defeated.
Come and lay me down. It feels better when you do it.