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The ticket seller is asleep in his cage - my room had no window, only white liquor and a monsoon - the one who loves you shows you the trees full of hooks - like the leaf-light of the darkest forest - A room full of shrunken heads - with a gravel crunch and the click of teeth - willing to stand there skeletal but proud, with tiny brown corpses littered at their feet - more a death sentence, than impediment - Footsteps on their way and the figure could be skeletal, could be gaunt, could be anybody - I could see you becoming prey to some larger insect or bird - a wildness I’ve tried to hide, but can barely contain - I’m compelled to shelter Barbies in a plastic house inside a wooden one I own - Programmed and predictable, we are dominated by prayer - Behind the curtains of an invisible world - why would all your meat, be covered by a flimsy skin coat? - reflecting the thin arms of bare trees - The flaming sky signed our names in blood - The porcelain lamp shattered in your hand, and left no doubt - hearts holler joyfully into the black earth - tucked into the endoskeleton of your former lover - White light creeps into your eyes, where nothing lives.
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| Lagoon by MISH |
