I am outside of my mold, 
sticking and stretching like spider webs between five fingers 
     I am shifting, 
always shifting, 
candle wax, wick ablaze, 
peach pink and oozing, 
melting,
the wicked witch, 
undone, unwound, undeserving
(Poor Elphaba, green and unwanted, as an ugly woman, didn’t she deserve what she got? ) 

I am doubling, a finger held to the bridge of your nose
I am dimensionless 
I am repetition and repeating, 
   repeating, 
I am a crow mimi-
      mimicking, 
devoting my larynx to collecting and cataloging 
(I am so repetitive you could have learned me by now ) 

I am a skipping dvd, 
the same scene of 1959’s sleeping beauty, 
the prince bends to kiss the sleeping beauty, 
  sleeping beauty,
and the second before their lips touch he’s up and coming back down again 
  and again 
  and again, 
never reaching her, 
always reaching for her, 
 (When will you lean all the way down? When will you fall? )

There is not a reflection when you peer into the looking glass 
No world to trip through, 
no face to ask who is most fair and lovely  
(Your phone can tell you that, you can tap the letters to spell “most beautiful person in the world” and images of children with  stars for eyes and models with waists so small they can’t possibly hold their organs in appear: 
Are they living? 
Are they living then? Where does the human go? 
      Where did your ribs go? Do they keep them somewhere for you? 
       Do you miss them? 
      Do you want to be buried with them?) 

I am formless, 
I am faceless, 
What is there of me? 
(Too much, that I can tell you with all the assurance there is )

     I am sleeping in my bathtub, 
        I am filling up my bathtub, 
I wonder if this is not how you are supposed to fit in your bathtub 

There is no water, it is all me, endless
I am liquid skin, 
         liquid undefined  
                    unfinished