Liz Fontanilles
You take my head
And smash it open like a watermelon,
Letting watery red sting my eyes.
My head is splitting from all of you;
Where’s the bottle of Tylenol?
I’m stuck crawling on the floor,
Blindly fumbling through the world,
No guarantee I’ll catch the ankle of someone who loves me.
Honey, honey, honey.
I hate honey.
I am tired of the sweet, of the candy,
That you try to plant the seeds of in my brain.
Your refreshers are only more lies,
So I am left dead and dry.
I yank and I yank at the vines you sling around me;
I just want to run, not crawl anymore.
Let me run, let me run,
I’m going to run, I’m not Honey.