i am 14 and seek a fever dream / i yearn for perky, plum-like tits and writhe for validation: my school uniform skirt rolled up twice / strung uncomfortably through flesh and fold. a desperate rash / sears my thighs to an enticing plumpness / i want to catapult through ages until i am allowed to give myself away / and have my soul picked apart by a man / who will tell me he loves me / nobody tells me this is dangerous / the school nurse says, “abstinence is key” but hands me a condom anyway. just in case / i am permitted the ability to bear fruit when i have not fully ripened myself. / i am 14 year old produce, pure, juicy and naive / serve me on a white platter with honey and a silver spoon / mince me into chunks / small enough to satisfy you / i know you have sensory issues when it comes to bodies / luckily, my texture is appetizing.

there is solace in the grime / being tied up: grocery store plastic swirled into a hefty rope / bounding me to thick fingers. i am 14 and wondering / if i will be weighed on a scale; struck across the cheek with a PLU number from some shitty printer / determining my value. if i am too heavy / i will hack away my skin with a rusty cleaver, allowing you access to the good / part: the muscles around my seeds. strip me / of my skin, bore into the flesh / but please, be careful with me / my mosquito-bite breasts bruise easily. i am painted / produce, stupidly eager to be marked again by peel-and-stick hickies or 6-inch deep apologies.

suddenly, your hot seed is unappetizing on my tongue / grocery bag bondage liquidizes into milky nothings / when you come, i am 17 and sick / For the first time, the friction of your gums repulses me: this is the birth of something sour.

Marinate in my acid

steel kisses / cut teeth /

Rotten produce / unsought: free.