i am not a monster

sometimes i have forests in my eyes
raging, like catching fire will catch
more than you attention. but your care.
those sounds from your lips voice to me
how you feel.

i have more than branches
and dying oak inside, you touch my shoulders
like i am fag ash and my bones crumble
when you breathe. it's ok to press your kneecaps
into my ribs and rest there
for a while. i will tuck myself into folds of fat
where nothing can peck at me.

it's ok. i called the pickup truck
well in advance.