breakfast

come in my mouth when I’m passed out and roll me on my side
you know, choking hazard
when the morning comes again you come on my eyelids
so that I can’t open them
I will hear a crow outside and think about what I am doing here
I probably hate myself
I mean right
you say I hate a lot of things
feel my consciousness spread out, a gutted fish
and this jersey sheet underneath, warm and wet
like thick folds of flesh like a spiral ham
I used to not like hot foods, but now I do
I used to bury my hate of others in my stomach
but now I just hate cold cereal


IMG_20150821_120726Alexandra Naughton is the editor of Be About It Press and Bay Area Poetry Socialite (lol). Links to her work published online and in print can be found here: http://thetsaritsa.tumblr.com/portfolio

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