I like cats

I make lists
fill my quills with blood
tattoo the ways I’ve died to the underside of my skin.
my radiologist reads the ink
Iam exposed, hidden

I make lists
etched into my drywall
covered in gypsum
hair white
lips flecked,
spittle and dust
spastic cough,
the sputum a hardening paste
I dress myself in people clothes.

I make lists
read them aloud
I like turtles
I am afraid
I make lists
Use both sides of the page,
stuff my couch with them
tie them to balloons,
fold them exactly seven times
hide them in Altoid tins
bury them
crumple them into balls
fill empty plastic soda bottles
toss them in the lake.
tie them to stray dogs
the alley cats read them
sing them back to me at night

I make lists
stack them to the ceiling,
they are written in code I cannot decipher
They are my lists
I am their leige
And I see many hot sluts a night.

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