an infant in my toes
transluscent and alive,
living softly in a bay of mullein.
the dream is falling and turning on its side in the night.
careening into oceans with silver spurs and grains of salt in the rusted hull
I can feel my finger s in the sheets as the starry breath churns a wake into the sky. her nose just slightly buzzing in the crisp light of mourning. I am a care free rabbit in the skinner’s hands, sharpening my teeth. the sky’s limit in the corners of my brain, reaching in the dark with shaking fingers and close the windows cause youre letting all the air in. youre a sick fuck they tell me, youre lost in the grains of the sidewalk, mixing cement in the wheelbarrow with your bare hands and waiting for the mailman to come in the middle of the night. your mother is a brazillian goddess who has been worshiped by pimps and pastors, and the day light scares you they tell me. I took a seat in a tulip and we wilted together, waiting for the sun to rise but it never did. I woke up and it was too bright and I was lying in the middle of the empty floor with all my clothes on. it was a city outside and all the white paint made it look nice and there were voices and birds and the sounds outside were inviting. but then later I all came back slowly walking in from the thought and all the words and im supposed to have somewhere to go and the city was ugly again.