self-portrait as a self-portrait 

i want you to lie with me
& tell me i am the creature of mice & weeds,
not a boy without an urn.
i have used tupperware
to carry my heart into a new bed.
every year since i turned seventeen,
i have moved at least once a year. 
in the long run, this is just one more.
a box for my hands that i kick
along the floor. a box for my tongue
filled with packing tape.
you stand inside the one
perfect pupil i have left. the other one
burst like a balloon.
i was playing with pins. if i have a home
it is not something i can dig for anymore.
instead, i take pictures of myself
in the yard. look up pocket knives online
so that i can really dig at the earth.
in a dream i am late for a flight.
sitting in a hotel room bed
i think, "i could live here." 
all my lives like unnested nesting dolls.
just tell me where the freezer is
& tell me what i mean to you.
give me a polaroid & a pill.
my bones sing to eachother.
i order an uber & then charge my mind.
i do not want to try 
to go back tonight. standing outside
the hospital with my lungs in a briefcase.
i called & called & no one came.
sometimes the false memories
are the ones that are truest. or else
i am just a liar & this is not my body at all
& soon i will move again.