flinders

My mind hacks at its own matter
like the little kid me gone crazy with scissors
letting paper pieces float every which way.

She’s desperate to create a perfect snowflake
but keeps inadvertently snipping the folded parts
the parts that hold it all together.
There’s white scraps everywhere.
They’re too small for recycling.

Sometimes it’s enough just to lay on the dock
bloated, stomach pressed against hard wood.
As my fingers gently stroke the water’s edge
I can play make-believe peaceful
but secretly hope to catch a fish
even though nobody catches fish
with their hands anymore.

My dreams wrap around my ankles
like seaweed: a dragon queen and little mermaids
floating, innocent, planning out their life stories
a mystical land of cotton candy
clouds you could jumped on
but I keep slipping through the cracks
in between.

I peel off all my skin with a potato peeler
and then cover myself with band-aids
but there’s too much blood
and they won’t stick properly.

This morning, I dumped my wheelbarrow of rocks
ripped the watch from the red burn on my wrist and flirted
with the idea of being a total frosted flake
the kind you eat a little too fast
and then slurp the milk
startlingly sweet.

This morning I dumped the abusive boyfriend that is me
and laughed at the absurdity of having a mind that is worse
than the most critical mother.