Mum, I’m tired of painting myself.
Shaving my body until I am sleek feels like a self-harm
I love the furry down that grows on me and reminds me of how many years my skin has had
But tonight I am shaving myself sleek again
Before I paint myself to look like a golden goddess that you see inside glowing glass
My hands move around my chest in circular motions
Preparing a corpse,
Mum, I look like I’m dying.
Did I get 100 likes yet?
Mum, I’m tired of chain smoking.
It makes me so fucking sick and I’m always coughing
But I’ve told myself that it is a stress relief because I need that
Do I need that? I probably need a one-way ticket to the middle of a forest, to be told
To create something in that solitude
Before I become part of a concrete block-
4 stories of artificial light and decaying human beings.
Mum, I feel like a blip of data.
Do you wanna talk about anything yet?
Mum, I’m tired of the circle of mould on the wall by my bed.
All this time we’ve been told that this life is an exciting journey
That one-day we’ll be understood as if we are all different
But life is, in fact, one dull grey sky after another.
It’s learning to wake up every morning at 7am and drink your coffee
And look at the sunrise bleeding bright pink and truly know
That this is the most beautiful thing you will see today.
Mum, you needed to teach us
To embrace monotony.