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: