a poem by me patrick star

coffee burns my lips before it ever touches them.
and they do burn.
blood sits closer to the surface
of my mouth
than anywhere else,
always ready to spill,
never ready to speak.
my mom always listens so well
even though i dont know what to say
and my jaw clenches
before i speak
and my eye twitches
when anyone looks at me.
but my mother taught me
to treat strangers like friends,
to howl among wolves,
that when wolves howl
they are not simply
teeth gnashing
gums bleeding
mouth full of blood
they are singing the moon to sleep.
please god
may my tenderness be infinite
may my lips be burnt
and they do burn
my lips burn
before yours ever touch them
and your hands
hold mine
before they are close enough
i will let your fingerprints
turn to flower petals
on the branches of thin muscle
and sore bones
and old scars
of my arms
i wish i could be less wolf.
i wonder if i can fabricate angels
from the inside out
cover my lungs with down
grow feathers from flaws
turn swan
maybe my teeth are not yet too sharp
to be filed down
maybe when i scream
people will know
i intend to be gentle
i intend to be a howl among wolves
i intend to turn my shaking hands
from fawns legs
newly born
into hands capable
of holding my life in both hands
and saying
this is it
my caucophony
i will try to live
i will keep reaching my hand
into the cage
you may bite it off
a hundred times
before i learn to step back
please
let me cradle the wolf out of you
let me invite your teeth to bed
let all of the blood on your hands
mix with mine
may our jaws intertwine
may all of our flesh
be mud