I malleability
you always notice the broken ribs first; the semblances of reality that prickle
under melanin, bits of bone molding into your chest wall; you were born in
black-&-white but long to dance under the rainbow stars; may the moon eclipse
from the uniform luminosity & you’d drag your feet through the sands of time:
her name is on your lips & the syllables kindle a fire in your trachea, leaving
you to struggle against the troubling taciturnity; the kind humanity mists onto
plants with water droplets, the kind that spills prismatic kisses against the skin;
& you want to sing like her, breathe like her, be like her, but you cannot, for:

II anonymity
those adhesive labels that haunt you cannot touch you here: sticking to your
forehead & ripping out tiny hairs on your scalp; you anoint your fingernails in
ultraviolet; drown the monochrome in acetone, wave your flag from atop a
rainbow throne; levity lasts longer from beneath your illusive veil; the words are
epiphanies, calamities of the good & bad, for your inquiries have diminished,
leaving these massive “wonderings” to crush you in their quad-syllabic glory;
the namelessness, the invisibility, it is your only vice, so you grasp it tight
between perse knuckles, longing for:

III simplicity
you wonder how you know all the answers, save for the ones that matter most;
musicality, for you long to harmonize with the discovery that illudes your
rose-tipped fingers; originality, so your sonnets & sestinas may echo across the
globe; toxicity, for your flesh is disintegrating between hyaline deprecations; &
you hope that your femininity & authenticity don’t bleed together, for then
you’d be left to rely on serendipity &:

IV synchronicity
so, you’re not drowning alone, but who will save you from sinking into this
roiling entity of identity?