GIDDY ❋ Gregory Zorko
i draw all over myself with crayons.
sharpen them between my teeth.
i am a beautiful varicolored bird
when i listen to you in the other room and there is that squeak in your sneakers.
you light the “Justo Juez” candle and water the cactus.
even when i die, i’m happy to know you are growing.
you are growing the way cornflakes grow in milk.
i think: if i die a little more maybe you will grow faster.
your feet are bigger than mine.
like the Aztecs
i want to make you a billion cups of coffee and throw severed heads at you when you feel lonely.
the blood is fake and the heads are fake too.