turkey meal 

get me out of this sainthood 
i want to be a worm.
i want to crawl on my belly
& eat tear drops from dead boys.
recently i learned everything in dog food:
there's turkey meal 
& tax documents & secret 
tomb ingredients that weren't meant
to be shared with the animals.
at disney world i tried to die.
i fed myself to an animatronic lion.
i am crying in the bathroom
& begging you to help me.
i don't know what i need help with.
there are turkeys whose whole existence
is to feed dogs. the dogs are busy
playing the lottery & barking
at the ugly moon. the moon 
coughs up a slipper. i had been 
looking for that. don't let
the ingredients fool you,
nothing is vegan. there a hand
in there somewhere. i think about leather 
& the process of prying skin from bone
just to wrap yourself.
merry christmas even though
it's september. i don't want
to call home but i should report
that i am still at the bottom of the ocean.
i tell the turkey ghosts,
"we could watch a movie" 
which is my code for,
"i don't know what else to say." 
mostly, an apologize is a trap door
into pity & a crunch wrap supreme
for someone else. unsatisfactory.
unsavory. switch blade
without a home. don't get me
confused with someone 
who knows where he is at all time.