I would ask: What if
no one likes it?
I was innocent. Younger,
I Thought the answer:
Not possible.
Wrong.
I take it personally.
I need approval,
and this drives me
to hate
all of the parts
of my constitution.
I hate my need
for approval
more than I hate
all of my other needs.
Without approval,
I suck, and back to the question,
the truth is
no one likes it
all the time. With approval,
I suck but I grab thin threads,
silver slivers of fishing line
gently iced with hope.
I want medicine
to fill my bottomless craving
for approval,
but they don’t make it,
so I suck,
“I suck” rolls around
my tummy
and then
carves up my lungs,
makes my face hurt
with beads,
massive tanks
of poisonous sweat
telling me I don’t belong. I wish
that someone liked it.
I dream that someone
liked me. My dreams
are tired.
Please take my need
for approval far away
where hawks eat mice
in the afternoon sun,
and leave me in the dumpster.
I will love you
from there.