i'll never be a poet

i am loved

only the mosquitoes want me

kiss my downy skin

swollen love bites in blush pink

sakura hills on desert plains.

the maggots wriggle and dance

for a lick of salty thigh meat

squealing cries of a suckling baby

come here and eat your portion.

the tapeworms burrow a lovenest

in the hearth of my belly

the bedbugs kiss me goodnight

in stamped letters, lines of love.

when i have no more life to give

no blood to gush forth to drink

no flesh left to fill their stomachs

my bones whistle for you, baby,

to lift me in your strong jaw

and gum all over

i smell of ash and dirt

but taste like earth and fire.

grind me up into umber dust

in your sharp baby teeth

exhale me through your wet nose

my ghost floats over our fake lawn

swirls past the dying plants, the dead durian tree

smoke eclipses the bleeding sun

you'll look up at the sudden dark in the sky

and my ash will descend

i'll haze up your eyes

smog your lungs

you can take all of me like this.

-pour myself into you

and leave you hollow, like

the hungry swarm of flesh-eating flies

all grown up from larvaehood.

not even the mosquitoes want

a lick of your blood.