Issue #54


Authors

Layer Cake

Content Warning: Deals with death/grief

I look inside myself,

And see that I am a Russian doll

Husk after husk

I am digging into my own earth 

and I find too much memory

The layers of dirt and birthday cake

Hold too much of me

Too many versions of hurt

Too many unsaid words 

Too much, too much yet again

Inside is everyone I have ever been

Tucked inside my frosting layers

is 14 year old me

She is still losing hope

Despite already knowing the end.

You didn’t show up last year either.

Sick of waiting, 

she blows out her candles.

And little 6 year old me

She just learned the word absent in class

She understands for the very first time

That the definition of priority

And the definition of Chloe

Are not the same fucking thing.

And we are all so confused.

And we are all so angry.

Every emotion twisted inside me 

But it has nowhere to go

It sits in my greenhouse mind 

and pushes the glass.

You would think,

Maybe someone on the outside would see

the withering plants bursting from the roof

No one comes with a watering can

I can feel my branches begging to see the sky

I feel the leaves wanting to be said

I wish it all had somewhere to grow

My thorned love

And my many-petaled anger

Sit on barren shelves, in abandoned pots

They both curdle into grief

They lost their use long ago

Never flowed out 

Of my many mouths

There are soured happy birthdays,

Spoiled but sincere thank yous,

Rotten I love yous,

All balled up and gagged,

I swallowed them all too long ago.

I had so many mouths

I feel it all in the back of my throat

But I could not scream

You could never hear it

You will never hear it.

My once useful mouth 

Is now only an open wound

I cannot tell you how angry I am

Cannot eviscerate you like I used to

You will never hold my blame

Like I hold this genetic anger

This hereditary desire to destroy

I wish I still had time to escape from you

You will never apologize for anything again

I can’t fly out the front door and

Tell you I never want to come back

I can’t come back anyways 

weeks later and apologize

I miss being your stray cat, Dad

And my vocal cords are drying up

And I am still screaming

In the middle of our kitchen

About how I wish you loved me a little more

And you are still deaf.

How do you scream into death?

Can you send a letter to the void?

I drew you hearts on the envelope

Sealed it with a million ungiven kisses

Can I love you back to life?

Can I leave a message after the beep?

Does the void hear me?

Did you ever hear me?

Will you ever hear me?

I scream nonetheless,

And no echo comes back.

The streetlights are coming on

And no voice calls me home for dinner.

I listen anyways. 

Self-Portrait as a Lemon

ilchee