funnel cake crown

i'm not that kind of beautiful.
i am in the fryer letting my skin
turn flakey & full. a bruise is a place 
to plant the future continent.
a living ground for meal worms 
& fathers we get to burry.
i do not want to be treated
like a dessert anymore.
running through the house
tracking powdered sugar everywhere.
there is always a war going on
even if it's just in a snow globe
to you. once i saw a man
fist fighting another man
on the sidewalk outside my window.
a tooth fell free from one of the men's mouths.
after the glass candy sirens
i went down in search for it.
i wanted a souvenir. but there are
other kinds of beautiful i could be
if you wanted. if you wanted
is something i say when i mean
i want you so badly i am turning
into a sawmill & cutting off my fingers.
i stop talking to my mother.
she becomes a quilt mice nest in.
the apartment is a refrigerator box
& then it's a dance studio &
then i buy an aquarium so large
it takes up the space of my heart.
sometimes someone does something
so bad to you that you have to
just operate as if it never happened.
i do not believe in death but i have
been dead at least once. 
i call for delivery. it's a pizza 
i'm going to feed to a bear. 
you tell me you are sick of people
saying sorry. the word is my beautiful slug.
i carry it into a salt field & say,
"we are going to be okay"
when i am certain the word is not.