SICK

I am that girl.
I am the space between my thinght, daylight shining through.
Iam the library aide who hides in Fantasy.
I am the circus freak encased in beeswax.
I am the bones they want, wired on a porcelain frame.
When I get close, they step back. The cameras in their eyeholes record the zit on my chin, the rain in my eyes, the blue water under my skin. They pick up every sound on ther collar microphones. They want to pull me inside of them, but they're afraid.
I am contagious.