I am what I am in you

one night of sleep and the milk

of your memory is thinned with stale water.

you should hold me whenever i fade away

i only stay wherever you hold me

all the other parts are paper mache devolving in the rain, elementarily.

the paper mache boy refuses to shower

afraid he'll clog up the drainage of his entire world

so he burns his sins away, bit by bit, and when

his finger is singed he puts it in his mouth

and hopes to sleep like a gripe water baby.

i only stay whenever and wherever held in others–

if everyone i know offers a flower on my grave

i am that bouquet and nothing more.

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