sugar moon

i put the whole moon in
my mouth & wait for it to melt.
i wonder if i could have
made it work with that boy
who tried to stuff me
into the trunk. was it really
that bad? 
a hate commenter
on my instagram asks
"are you truly happy?" & i do not
answer honestly. why would
i give him (because i know it is 
a 'him') the satisfaction
of knowing how sad i am? 
instead i say, "i have a good life"
which in the grand scheme 
of human suffering
is pretty true. the moon doesn't
taste as good as you might think 
it would. kind of just sugar cookie
with a hint of amaretto.
once, i had to pull over
on the way to new york city
& i use a constructor sites
port-o-potty. it was as gross
as you might think but on the walls
were phone numbers
& cartoons & even a little manifesto 
that read, "i am going 
to talk to god." i wished i had
a sharpie so i could ad to it.
i scrambled back into my car
& sped out of there.
the worst part about the internet
is that it is always like
talking through a door. 
you are either passing notes
or shouting. my partner
yells at me when i try to talk to him
from another room. i bring him
a moon & hope he keeps deciding
to love me. i write out my honest answer.
the sun is choking on herself. 
"i am no longer worried
about being happy." maybe
that would give him what he wants.
i think if i drove to his house
right now he would be smashing stars
like gnats. some people are rushing
& some people are being rushed. 
i am lying to you. i don't let
the moon melt in my mouth.
i bite down. i chew like a dog.