the intensity of this heat feels
like a premature call toward death
no, srsly, I’d like to cordially invite you
to my funeral
okay I have always been dramatic,
once a Myspace quiz told me my spirit animal
is a blue whale, of course, for their emotional depth,
which is my preferred way of saying I am sensitive
my Weather app tells me it’s 96 degrees
the ‘feels like’ is 108 degrees
and I’m like why is what it feels like not
simply what it is, I’ve never understood the difference
I used to dread the summer in my schooldays
(I still dread the summer)
how it always feels like standing silent
behind the window, stuck somewhere in the blinds
anyway, today I decided to take the risk of leaving the house
without an oily layer of sunscreen
I hate when something stands between the body me
and the walking in the world me
this is ironic given all the masks
I would slip between in high school,
how, even still, everyone looked
at me and thought die die die
the UV index is 7
(I googled what that meant)
I may not be getting it but I think that means
the sun-rays are so hyped on themselves they
can literally move right through you
sometimes people look right through me, and think dead dead dead
inside or outside, the flies keep swarming my body
as if I am already carcass, springboard
off my skin, ready to crawl into my eyes,
my mouth, I clench all the open of me shut
and I’m like yo shouldn’t you fuckers
be afraid of me, I am literally a giant to u
before I left for college, I went on this whale watching
tour in the Boston harbor. It was so rocky
I threw up until my guts were practically on the table
(all the tourists squealed, the whales were cool w/ it tho)
I know I resemble something washed up
on shore, too #beachbody
aren’t we all wonders of the world
one wrong turn away from fossil
sweat rivers down the nape of my neck and I think
about the feels like me and the very real me me
and I’m like girl isn’t it crazy
how long we’ve made it
one of us, surely, shouldn’t
be alive
marissa layne 