september, won't you come & save me now

you go from cutting your hips
to cutting your hair & call it progress.
in reality you’ve always wanted
to be less than you were.
you shake largeness off like girlhood,
a coat grown too tight.

shave your head again in september.

///

the summer of 2013 hits hard
& ridiculous. hurting songs in a
house too full, scratching away
at the hate you effuse.
2018 & twenty seasons
have passed. no more songs
in the same house, too empty to
hold anything else than void.
tea cups marks on your left thigh,
an attempt to burn out of this brain
invaded by evil. promise it’ll get better.
let your hair grow out

but only until september.