Jae Eason
Tik Tok is Rotting My Brain
Molded bananas
seep sugar on the shelf
in the kitchen. A fruit fly
melodically buzzes around
the blackened peels. The fridge is
empty. Mango lassi, pasta sauce,
& past-due eggs are what’s left on the
glass shelves. My apartment is only
half dirty. Mostly trash I tell myself
I’ll pick up. A pile of clothing, shaped
like my curled up body, homed a corner
in the living room. The plants, all gifts
from friends who’ve now gone,
have begun trying to kiss
the floor. Even the bread
is going bad. Green polka-dots
that fashion my fingertips, spot
the surface. Now, I can’t drink my coffee
without the milk curdling once it touches
my tongue. Everything around me
is rotting. This morning, I noticed black
mold growing on my bathroom mirror.
Bleached the evidence, but it returned
in the shape of my face.
seep sugar on the shelf
in the kitchen. A fruit fly
melodically buzzes around
the blackened peels. The fridge is
empty. Mango lassi, pasta sauce,
& past-due eggs are what’s left on the
glass shelves. My apartment is only
half dirty. Mostly trash I tell myself
I’ll pick up. A pile of clothing, shaped
like my curled up body, homed a corner
in the living room. The plants, all gifts
from friends who’ve now gone,
have begun trying to kiss
the floor. Even the bread
is going bad. Green polka-dots
that fashion my fingertips, spot
the surface. Now, I can’t drink my coffee
without the milk curdling once it touches
my tongue. Everything around me
is rotting. This morning, I noticed black
mold growing on my bathroom mirror.
Bleached the evidence, but it returned
in the shape of my face.
Jae Eason is a poet currently based in New York. A previous Kenyon Review Winter Workshop participant. A Best of the Net Nominee. Their work can be found in Lolwe, Defunkt Magazine, Bodega Magazine, and more. If they're not up to all the normal things people usually do, they're most likely having an existential crisis.