Blue Poem by Cat Singh

I eat the blue off my hands
as I sit naked in a towel at the kitchen table,
covered in hair dye,

covered in despair.

I've been a vegetarian since 8th grade,
but today I eat meat
with blue fingertips
all chemical in my mouth;

burnt tongue.

Plants are so alive.
They can see and mimic:
Boquila Trifoliolata.

I wonder if they feel
more than the dead.

I am dyed in splotches head to toe,
and I want to vomit.
Nothing feels right.
Nothing

feels right.