Untitled: A Poem

you left your spare key in my room.

so I stopped by to tell you the bathtub

fell through the ceiling and crushed my cat.

you text me “Be back next week”.

so sorry, I forgot to tell you spiders laid eggs in my head. they were gnawing at my parietal lobe.

“Leave it on the coffee table.”

wait, did you not know about the rats who ate my fingertips?
they threw them up in front of me.

It is Thursday.

My mother is peeling apples in a skirt.

My sister is laying naked in the sun.

My brother is sitting in boxers,

And has succumbed himself to humming synthesizers.

And you are in New York,

Tossing someone new about your bedroom.

you left your spare key in my room,

but left before my face melted off. I microwaved it.

don’t you know you don’t forget your wallet on the subway unless you want to lose all your money?

don’t you know you don’t leave your spare on a nightstand without intending for someone to return it?

don’t you know there are dandelions growing out of my feet and worms etching notes in the sockets of my eyes?