Voyeur

Aileen Kuang

Watch the blood rush to my head

tip me over and

watch how it pours out,

foggy maroon red exiting from the crack down my skull

I’m sure you think it’s sickening

Cradle me like you would a newborn,

like I’m five months old

a plaything swaddled in vaporous blankets,

I’m peeved and petulant. So you

buy me a drink

a vodka soda, please and inject it straight into my chest:

a liquid breast implant

it ruptures faster that way, and you know

I’m ravenous. I’ll be back but

for now it gives me a year,

or two, or three. Time is currency when you know

how to spend it. Save yours for someone

less fortunate and watch,

watch as mine accumulates in my Roth IRA

the one I started at five months old

I hope you take me seriously, or else

we’re fucked. Look.

Look at me. Redfaced and

pupils blown wide open,

and I’m deadly sober.

Look at me: what will you see when you wake up?

Promise I’m done, done, finished

and you’ll buy me a drink,

or two, or three—

No, I don’t mind at all.