United States

17 ; they/them
*vomits on the ground* yeah i uh. create sometimes

Message to Readers

i spent about a week on this piece and really loced creating a code only i had the key to - i’m excited to see what others think it means!!

swallow. you’ve ruined your life trying to fix it.

May 25, 2020


“What’s so pretty about private?”
You ask, and they force your fingers into the mouth of crocodile dentist.
They respond with another pluck of your wrists, cuffs that name you the pianist of clacking plastic molars. All of his teeth are shaped the same.
You don’t think that’s very accurate.
“Your breath smells like milk,”
is the answer.
When you leave,
You pray to never again know the consequences of ill-placed notes.

Snap, goes her jaw.
“Sick of you” is a song that’s crooned on keys quite often. Ignoring it is easy on good days.
Crocodile dentist is quite a thrill,
disappointing as he is. 
He tells you you’re not a very good pianist, and you tell him his eyes were painted ugly, in the Factory.

You press on with your question,
as the others play i-spy.
“What’s so pretty about private?”
You’re not allowed to play this participation game. You haven’t won the first one, with them.
“Your breath smells like milk,”
one says, with her mouth. Her braces have been removed and she’s since developed a habit of not wearing her own body.
Her soul clings to the air about it, like humidity.
“Your songs are ugly,”
She means, with her eyes. Are they painted? You can’t quite tell.

The rest of the players find her answer sufficient for them, too.

The Forest’s mouth is large and it bears no canines.
It lacks a body of white or yellow to make sense as them, there, 
hasn’t the lips to smack and twist and deceive,
so it can’t smile or lie or play pretend.
Somehow, it eats anyway; graceless, without chewing.
Everyone speaks of the skies being the guide, 
changing projections of the future we’re bold enough to attempt to understand.
You, personally, abstain from Gods’ writings,
knowing the insult of your criticism.
They play i-spy before anything else,
and you’ve grown more accustomed to creatures that speak and do not hear.

“The Earth sees everything, you know,”
the body says.
You don’t know what to name it, because it doesn’t move like humans do. A million eyes are parasites in its belly. 
Even without title, you’re sure it only knows to swallow them.
“Do you need those, to look inside?” you ask. There’s a doll shape bubbling in its gut.
“I created you.”
The voice is an ache. As it stretches and heaves you decide its spine is carved by a half-reborn River.
“I don’t want a mother.”
“Not this one.”
“Shut up.”
You wrinkle your nose and sip at the cup in your hands, think of the nonchalance and expressionlessness that comes with not wearing eyebrows.
“It’s my fault they’re closed, isn’t it?”
White water leaks from its belly button.
You can’t tell if the worn plastic tea set is pink or purple.
“Your blood is nice.”
i previously provided the longest explanation known to man on this piece, and then i realized that it took away from the poem in general - part of the authenticity is being confused!! but if you want it i’ll link it to you!!


See History

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  • billothee

    @ Anha oh my goodness thank you so much!! this was such a pleasant surprise to log on to

    5 months ago
  • Anha

    may 2020 wtw highlights are live, and you're in them!

    6 months ago
  • outoftheblue

    I'm so confused by this, but I'm also so curious. Honestly, this is incredible

    6 months ago
  • billothee

    @CrazyNinjaKid thank you so much!!

    6 months ago
  • billothee

    @SuperKewlKiwi i’d love to hear your thoughts!! i’m sad this site doesn’t have private messaging but you’re welcome to just share here!!

    6 months ago
  • SuperKewlKiwi

    I think I’ve figured out the code.

    6 months ago
  • CrazyNinjaKid

    There's heaps of detail in this, I like it :)

    6 months ago