home iii

and this is how you breathe:

i. my mother plays with

knives

while i play with the lock

on the bathroom door

my hands have stopped

shaking on

the doorknob a long

time ago

ii. some days

i'd rather be splayed dead

and bloody on the

street than walk all

the way back

home

iii. she never lets me sleep

as long as i need;

can she tell that closing

my eyes is all it takes to fade

away from this place

iv. i want to be somewhere

a million miles away

v. mama,

please stop screaming

i can't sleep