I’m Sorry This Poem Is So Painful
I was treated for fairy-godmother dependency. I arrived with a crate of leaving presents:
a cling-film sculpture of fog from Mother Urge,
a permanent-marker of smoke from Mother Longing,
a murmur in a Tupperware box from Mother Promise,
and five skinned prawns from Mother Hope (in case I got peckish for a bite of almost nothing).
The first thing my healers did was confiscate my hamper.
They sat me with a group of human protégées. Their skulls like mine bore fluorescent scars from the tap-tap-tap of magic wands.
Mother Numb made the best aspartame cheesecake. Carcinogenic, it tasted like heaven.
‘Is there Sweet’n Low for my coffee?’ I asked, ‘I just need a pinch of Sweet’n Low.’
‘We came into these rooms, broken by desire…’ said the speaker, pale behind a black lectern.
His facial skin was slack with protruding beige teeth-marks, like his brain had grown a mouth and started chewing its way out.
‘Can I please have some fucking sweetener for my shit coffee?’ I asked again.
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