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.